


More Than You Know

by Leslie_Knope



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Chirping, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, M/M, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-22 17:26:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 27,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12486984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leslie_Knope/pseuds/Leslie_Knope
Summary: Nursey and Dex’s junior year starts with an apology and ends with a promise.





	1. Come A Little Closer

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just finishing up the very end, so the second chapter will be posted next week!
> 
> Title and chapter titles from [More Than You Know](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GsF05B8TFWg).
> 
> (The texts are just random interludes between scenes.)

Lardo’s room— _their_ room now, he supposes—looks exactly the same as Dex remembers from the end of last semester, after he and Nursey had moved in a couple things: bare walls, a set of bunk beds, one dresser, and two desks, one of which they’d wedged into a corner.

Dex sighs and drops his duffel bag onto the floor with a thud. Space is going to be tight, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous about the whole situation. He and Nursey have finally achieved friend status, he thinks, in that they can actually have normal conversations now, sometimes, but it’s definitely still tenuous. He has an inkling that rooming together is either going to make it a lot better or a lot worse.

And Dex would _really_ rather not slip back to the animosity of freshman year, both for the sake of the team and for his overall life satisfaction, so he’s going to try really hard to be a decent roommate. He’s a better person than he was freshman year, he hopes, which can only help, right?

Nursey and Chowder are both arriving shortly, according to the frogs group chat, so Dex settles in to unpack a bit. He makes his bed, the ease of which is the only advantage to having the bottom bunk. Last semester they flipped a coin for top bunk, which Nursey won. The guy is clumsy when he’s _sober_ , so Dex really doesn’t want to think about how Nursey’s going to manage getting up there when he’s drunk.

The front door bangs open downstairs, and Dex listens carefully as Bitty greets whoever it is. Nursey, probably, and his suspicions are confirmed when he hears the laugh floating up the stairs.

“Roomie!”

Dex sighs, but there’s a small smile pulling at his lips as he turns around. “Hey, Nurse.”

They’re at bro-hug level now, apparently, which is slightly surprising. Dex can probably count on one hand the number of times he and Nursey have been in physical contact outside of hockey or mild violence.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Nursey says, as soon as they pull apart. “What the fuck are you wearing?”

Dex looks down. He likes this shirt, actually, it was a birthday gift from his sister last year. It has red splatters on it and says _I went to a wedding and all I got was this bloody t-shirt_. “What? It’s from Game of Thrones.”

“Do you like Game of Thrones?”

“Yeah,” he says warily, curious if he’s going to get chirped for this. “Why?”

“Dude, I _love_ Game of Thrones.” Nursey’s voice is earnest, and he shakes Dex a little where he still has a grip on his shoulder. “How did I not know that about you?”

“I have no idea. Have you read the books?”

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t think fantasy’s really my genre, but the worldbuilding alone is amazing. You?”

Dex nods and gestures to the bookcase as proof.

“Wait…there wasn’t a bookcase in here before.” Nursey tilts his head, and Dex swallows back a ‘very observant’ chirp. “Did you get us a bookcase?”

“I, uh, I made it.”

“Holy shit, you made this?” Nursey exclaims, and Dex nods again.

Lardo took the small bookcase that was in here before, and Dex figured they’d need one. It’s nothing particularly fancy or large, but Dex thinks it turned out pretty nicely, for a piece of furniture that’s, honestly, intended to double as a peace offering.

One that Nursey seems to appreciate, if the way that he’s crouching down to examine it is any indication. “This is awesome, dude, thanks. It would’ve been mad annoying to stack our books everywhere.”

Dex makes a vaguely affirmative noise, watching Nursey as he tilts his head to read the spines of the books that Dex has already arranged on the top shelf. He recognizes Nursey’s shirt—it’s the green one he wears all the time that says _it’s lit_ —but he’s pretty sure the last time he saw Nursey wearing it, his shoulders weren’t stretching the seams quite so much.

“You look good.”

The words slip out without his brain’s explicit permission, unfortunately, and he regrets it pretty much the second it happens. Nursey stands and spins around, with that lazy smirk that Dex _hates_ fixed firmly on his face.

“You think I look good?”

Dex suppresses a huff. “You know what I mean.”

“I dunno, how many ways are there to interpret that, really?”

“I _meant_ ,” he says, through gritted teeth, “that it looks like you’ve been working out. Like, you know, we were supposed to.”

Nursey’s smirk morphs into a real smile. “Yeah, man. First line, right?”

Dex hopes that his own smile comes across as more confident than he feels. “Can’t wait.”

Before the summer, Coach Hall called them into his office and told them that with Ransom and Holster graduating, they were officially first line. And Dex _is_ looking forward to it—assuming he doesn’t fuck it up, that is.

They both unpack, fighting halfheartedly over space in the dresser and in the closet, and settle into a fairly comfortable quiet. It’s not like they really need to catch up on their summers—between Snapchat, texts, and the group chat, they talked at least a few times each week. They even Skyped a couple times.

Plus, the silence gives Dex some space to work up the courage for what he needs to say.

“Nursey,” he blurts out, before he can overthink it, and Nursey turns away from where he’s hanging up shirts in the closet.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.” Dex forces the words out when they try to stick in his throat. “I was kind of an asshole about the whole dib flip thing, and that was shitty. It’s not that I _didn’t_ want to room with you, I was just…just worried, I guess. But I could’ve actually talked to you about it or something instead of acting like a jerk. I didn’t handle it very well.”

Nursey steps closer to give Dex a friendly shove in the shoulder. “No worries, dude. It’s chill.”

Dex frowns. Nursey often says that things are _chill_ when they most definitely aren’t. “But I—”

“I’m serious,” Nursey says, and his eyes sharpen as they focus on Dex. “Yeah, not gonna lie, it hurt my feelings a little bit. But I know you, and I know you’re not _actually_ an asshole. I understand.”

Dex sighs and scratches at the back of his neck. “I…okay. I’m still sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” he says firmly. “Can I guilt you into giving me an extra dresser drawer?”

Dex narrows his eyes. “Not a chance. But maybe we can renegotiate the closet.”

Nursey laughs.

Chowder crashes into their room then, attempting to wrangle the both of them into a three-way hug. He plops down onto Dex’s bed and starts chattering about the new freshmen and what they’re going to call them, and a little bit of Dex’s tension starts to ease.

* * *

Dex’s alarm goes off at six, like always, and he pops awake easily, reaching to grab his phone from the floor. He stretches, reveling the slight burn and pull in his muscles as he twists, and rubs the sleep from his eyes before he stands.

There’s a lot of moaning and groaning coming from the top bunk, and the mound of blankets shifts until Nursey’s head pokes out.

“What the ever-loving fuck is going on?” he asks, his voice raspy from sleep. Dex’s head when he stands is right about level with Nursey’s bunk, it turns out, and he has a very clear view of Nursey’s bleary eyes, pillow creases deep on his cheek.

“I like to run in the mornings. Did you not know that?”

“Oh my god are you a _morning person_?”

Nursey looks horrified, and Dex grins. “Yeah.”

“Get your cheerful self away from me,” he mutters, stuffing his head back under his pillow. “What the fuck is wrong with you.”

Dex laughs and sheds his sleeping clothes for a pair of running shorts, forgoing a shirt because it’s August in Massachusetts, which means it’s hot as fuck even this early in the morning. He slides his watch on and pauses by the door.

“Bye!” he calls out loudly, just to be a dick, and Nursey’s hand emerges from the blankets to flip him off. Dex laughs again but tries to be quiet as he pads downstairs and lets himself out. It is, in fact, hot as fuck, but the campus is still, and there’s something oddly peaceful and eerie about running around Samwell when it’s empty. He kept in good shape over the summer, but it’s more humid here than in Maine and his breath comes heavier than he’d like.

He ends up back at the Haus after fourish miles and quickly gives up on stretching in favor of getting inside where it’s cool. It’s as quiet as it was when he left, so he’s surprised to see Nursey in the kitchen, bent over sluggishly with his elbows on the countertop, staring at the coffeemaker.

“You smell _so_ terrible, I can’t even tell you,” he says, without even turning around, and Dex rolls his eyes.

“It’s like 80 degrees already.” He peels his sweaty snapback off and tosses it in Nursey’s direction. The noise he gets when it hits his arm is priceless, and Nursey twists to glare at him.

“I will actually murder you. I am not supposed to function at this hour.”

Dex puts the hat back on and then grimaces—it’s damp and honestly feels really gross. He hangs it on the doorknob instead and runs a hand through his hair, until it’s surely standing up in ridiculous spikes. “Why are you awake then?”

“Couldn’t fall back asleep.”

“Sorry,” Dex says, and he means it. “After a week or so I’ll start waking up before my alarm, so it shouldn’t wake you.”

“That is disgusting,” Nursey informs him, and Dex shrugs. He pulls the fridge open, relishing the rush of cool air, and surveys his breakfast options.

“Do you want eggs?”

Nursey side-eyes him as he grabs an Aces mug from the cabinet—Dex has no idea where that one came from and how it’s still in one piece—and pours the coffee the second it’s done. “Are they as good as Bitty’s?”

“Probably not,” he admits. Bitty makes killer poached eggs, and all Dex can reliably manage is scrambled. “But I’m offering, so…”

“As long as you don’t sweat in them. Thanks.” He shuffles over to the table and plops down, burying his head in his folded arms. “You want coffee?”

“Yeah, that’d be—”

“Then get it your damn self,” Nursey interrupts, and since there’s a small smile poking out, Dex snorts.

Dex doesn’t think Nursey is _actually_ asleep—he keeps resurfacing from his arm nest to take sips of his coffee—but he tries to cook quietly anyway.

* * *

Being back at Faber feels a little strange, especially when it’s empty. He and Nursey decided to go over early, since they were up anyway, and Dex would prefer to get his sea legs back, so to speak, with as few people around as possible.

He exhales as he steps out onto the ice, and when he looks up, Nursey’s grinning at him.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Dex admits. Even when he hasn’t skated in a few months, he practically feels more comfortable on the ice than he does on solid ground. He’s confident here in a way that he really isn’t anywhere else, and it feels like he’s settling into a different skin. School, other people, the rest of real life…it requires a lot more finesse, and he never really knows where he stands. It’s not a bad thing, really, he knows that’s what college is about, learning all those things, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to enjoy the advantage in the only place he has it. Even if he’s not the best player around, he’s fast and strong and knows what he’s doing out here.

_Not that Nursey has such problems_ , Dex thinks idiotically, not without a flash of familiar jealousy. But he tamps it down. He _knows_ that’s not true, he knows that it’s a slippery slope of misguidedness to think that Nursey just floats through life without any troubles. He keeps them hidden pretty well, though, and Dex often isn’t privy to what they are.

He and Nursey take a few lazy laps, the gentle _shushing_ of their skates on the ice seeming to almost echo in the cavernous space. As much as Dex is looking forward to himself being different on the ice, the feeling’s even stronger when it comes to him _and_ Nursey. They fit together on the ice, in a way that they haven’t yet managed anywhere else, and Dex isn’t above admitting that he likes it. That they can be so in sync and so much better together than they are on their own, instead of just “those hockey players who fight all the time.”

“So what’re you taking this semester?” Nursey asks, breaking the silence, and Dex grimaces as he spins around to skate backward.

“Uh…two comp sci classes. An art history class for my humanities req.”

Nursey hums. “Is it a blow-off?”

“The real blow-off, that Roman empire one, conflicts with my schedule. Which fucking blows. But hopefully it won’t be too bad. Oh, yeah, and that stats class.”

“That’ll probably suck,” Nursey says cheerfully, and Dex makes a face. They’re taking the class together, actually, and neither of them are looking forward to it. Dex needs a math credit that _isn’t_ comp sci-related, and Nursey needs a math credit, period.

“What about you? Besides stats.”

“History, for my social science req. America as an Imperialist Empire,” he says, grinning, and Dex laughs.

“Sounds depressing.”

“Yeah, I can’t wait. And for English, Shakespearean comedies and depictions of poverty in literature.”

“No poetry?” Dex asks, and Nursey pouts.

“No, not til spring.”

“How ever will you survive.” His tone is dry but he keeps his smile on the gentle side of chirping, and then he has to spin around again to skate away when Nursey starts to chase him.

* * *

Nursey groans dramatically as they step into the Haus after practice. Dex grunts in agreement and gives the stairs a withering look—just the thought makes his quads ache.

He worked out over the summer, sure, but running and lifting weights just isn’t the same as doing drills and suicides on the ice. The coaches took it fairly easy on them for the first day, but it was still a bit of a shock to the system and Dex just wants to be horizontal for a little while.

“On the bright side,” Nursey says over his shoulder, as they climb embarrassingly slowly, “at least we don’t have homework yet.”

“There is that.”

Dex drops his bag in the corner with a grateful thump and falls back onto his bed. He considers changing his clothes—PJs would feel nice right now and he’s certainly not planning on going anywhere—but quickly dismisses the idea due to the level of effort required.

Nursey swipes his laptop off the desk and waves it in Dex’s direction. “Game of Thrones? I want to rewatch last season before the new one starts.”

“Sure,” he says, while his eyes slip shut on their own accord. When he realizes it and opens them again, Nursey’s standing next to his bed with an expectant look on his face. “You’re too tired to climb up to your bed, huh?” he asks, and Nursey grins.

“Scoot over.”

Dex groans but obeys. While Nursey gets settled and fiddles with his laptop, Dex fishes his phone out of his pocket to check the time. “Just one, though, I wanna watch the game.”

“What game?”

“Red Sox.”

“I didn’t know you liked baseball. You go to games?”

“Nope.” There’s no need to elaborate, really—getting tickets used to be basically impossible, and even if it’s easier now, they’re still expensive as shit. “You like baseball?”

Nursey shrugs. “I mean, I’ve been to Yankee Stadium—”

“Fuck the Yankees,” Dex says automatically, interrupting, and Nursey rolls his eyes.

“But I wouldn’t really consider myself a fan of them,” he continues without missing a beat.

“Good. I would hate for our friendship to be over so soon.”

“Aw, we’re friends?” Nursey says, smirking, and Dex huffs.

“Just start the episode.” The familiar theme song starts, and Dex really hopes he can stay awake. Drooling on Nursey’s shoulder would be pretty embarrassing. “Who’s your favorite character?”

“Dany, obviously. You?”

“Jon.”

“That is _so_ predictable,” Nursey says, and Dex socks him in the shoulder.

* * *

**Nursey:** I’m buying us a minifridge.  
  
**Dex:**????  
  
**Dex:** The kitchen is RIGHT THERE  
  
**Nursey:** Imagine with me: a Saturday morning, hungover as shit, and instead of going all the way downstairs, you can reach an ice-cold Gatorade from your bed.  
**Dex:** Yeah, from *my* bed. How exactly are you gonna get your Gatorade?  
  
**Nursey:** We can rig some kind of pulley system.  
  
**Nursey:** And by we, I mean you  
  
**Dex:** There we go

* * *

By late September, they’re both still alive.

The first couple weeks were more tentative than Dex would have expected, both of them trying to figure out how to merge their lives together without causing undue amounts of strife. It was a strange combination of either tiptoeing around each other or arguing, and they finally came up with a handful of room rules. (Nursey is not allowed to leave his clothes on the floor in a place where Dex can trip over them; Dex is not allowed to play, well…most of his music, really, without headphones.) Once they actually talked about what was truly aggravating versus just annoying, both the tiptoeing and the arguing lessened.

They learn that they don’t do well when either or both of them are tired and overwhelmed by practice and classes—that’s when their sniping is mostly likely to take on a mean edge. It seems to be an unspoken agreement that they’re trying _not_ to antagonize each other unnecessarily, so they’re learning to avoid each other’s bad moods. It’s not perfect, but Chowder has only had to interrupt a screaming match once, which frankly, is better than Dex expected.

Things on the ice are as good as ever, probably even better because the two of them are settled in their first line role. They do extra practices together, just the two of them, and Nursey sometimes even runs with Dex in the mornings, which is pretty hilarious when it happens because he’s basically half-asleep for the first mile.

Most nights are spent doing homework in their room. Dex likes listening to the Sox games on the radio while he works, which miraculously, Nursey doesn’t mind. He has incredible focus, apparently, and can handle it even as he reads. He reads a _lot_ , which seems awful—Dex wants to take back every single chirp he’s ever made about liberal arts classes.

* * *

**Nursey:** Sorry bro, can’t make dinner tonight, gotta finish up this group project thing  
  
**Dex:** No prob. You’re not missing out, it’s chili night  
  
**Nursey:** Blech. Hopefully there’s pie at the Haus

Dex stares down at his phone, trying to ignore the weird, twisty feeling in his gut.

Two years ago, and even last year, he would have literally paid money to _not_ have to hang out with Nursey. (And the feeling was probably mutual because Dex was kind of a dick.) But now, even though they basically spend all day together—early morning run or extra practice, class, lunch, practice, dinner, and homework, in that order, all together—he’s weirdly bummed about missing out on their weekly Sunday night dining hall dinner. They both have partial meal plans, eating some of their meals at the Haus and some in the dining hall, but the Sunday night dinner has become this kind of unspoken sacred thing, just the two of them.

Dex is already there—the dining hall opens at five on Sundays, half an hour earlier than on weekdays, which is very exciting for hungry hockey players—so he eats quickly by himself, just fiddling on his phone.

They often go to the library afterward, but since it’s nice outside, Dex heads for the quad instead. All too soon the weather is going to take a biting turn, so he should probably take advantage of the last vestiges of warmth while they still have them.

Everyone’s as greedy as he is, apparently, but he finally finds a spot to stretch out on his stomach on the grass and reads for a while, trying to catch up on the art history reading that he’s behind on.

A shadow falls over his papers after he’s struggled through about 20 pages, and when he looks up, it’s Nursey. “Hey,” he says, but Nursey just flops down next to him on his back and folds an arm over his face with a groan.

“Group projects, man,” is all he says, and Dex mirrors his grimace.

“Yeah, they’re the worst. Bad group?”

“Just some total douchecanoe who thinks that just because he’s read Ta-Nehisi Coates’ book means that he’s like, the golden woke white boy or something.”

“What a dick,” Dex says in solidarity. “Is his name Chad?”

Nursey snorts. “Probably.”

Dex can’t help with Chad, but carbs make everything better, right?

“They had those rolls you like, so I grabbed a couple,” he says, and Nursey moves his arm off his face for the first time.

“Yeah?”

Dex jerks his chin toward his bag. “Front pocket.”

“Thanks, bro.”

Dex only makes it through five more pages before it’s too dark to see anything. The weather is still pleasant, though, and he’s not inclined to go inside yet, so he pulls out his phone and starts scrolling through NHL preseason news.

“We should probably be studying now, shouldn’t we?” Nursey asks after a while, and Dex nods.

“Probably,” he agrees, but neither of them move.

They talk about random shit, passing their phones back and forth to share funny YouTube videos and NHL highlights, until it’s pitch black and the quad is nearly empty.

Dex stands and brushes the grass off his pants. “I wanna get a little more work done before it starts.”

Nursey nods and holds a hand up, which Dex obediently takes to haul him up. “Nine, right?”

“Yeah. I think people are coming over.”

The Game of Thrones season premiere is tonight, and to say that they’re excited is a bit of an understatement.

Half of the team ends up congregating in the Haus living room for the show, which would be great and fun if they would all just _shut up_. After about the sixth time in as many minutes that Nursey and/or Dex yell at them to be quiet so they can actually hear what’s going on, to absolutely no avail, Dex shoots Nursey a desperate look.

“Do you wanna—”

“Already ahead of you,” Nursey says, scrambling for his iPad. “Lemme pull it up, we can go upstairs.”

Watching the episode on a small screen, huddled together on Dex’s bed, isn’t exactly ideal, but it’s far preferable to dealing with the constant, idiotic commentary.

* * *

**Nursey:** Did you get my email??  
  
**Dex:** All 8 articles of GOT theories? Yes  
  
**Dex:** I have hw I should be doing, but instead I wasted valuable time reading every one and now I have a page full of counter-theories.  
  
**Nursey:** Ugh dude fine I won’t send any more.  
  
**Dex:** That wasn't a joke.  
  
**Dex:** Please be ready to discuss.

* * *

Dex startles awake to the sound of all the Haus residents—Nursey, Chowder, Bitty, Ollie, and Wicks—standing next to his bed and making ungodly amounts of noise on those ridiculous horn blower things.

Dex groans and buries his head under the pillow, but that just prompts them into an enthusiastic, off-key rendition of “Happy Birthday.”

Once they’re finally, mercifully done, Dex pulls the pillow off his head and glares at them. “You all are awful singers, this is a terrible start to a birthday.”

“But Bitty’s making waffles!” Chowder says, and Dex reconsiders.

“That’s a little better.”

Dex shoos them out of the room so he can shower in peace, and when he makes his way downstairs, there’s an impressive stack of chocolate chip waffles on the table with a crooked candle sticking out of it.

“Thanks, Bitty, this looks awesome,” he says, and Bitty ruffles his hair once he sits down.

“Happy birthday, Dex.”

“So what’re you doing for the big two-one?” Wicks asks, his mouth full of waffle. “21 drinks?”

Dex grimaces, his stomach rolling at the mere thought. “Uh, no thanks.”

“Dex has plans tonight,” Nursey informs them all, and Dex’s eyebrows lift.

“Oh, really?”

“It’s a surprise.” That doesn’t exactly sound promising, and Dex makes a face. Nursey rolls his eyes. “You’ll like it, I promise.”

Dex wants to push back—he’s not the biggest fan of surprises—but manages to refrain. “Fine. Whatever.”

“Awesome.” Nursey’s mouth is full, too, and he pushes the serving plate toward Dex. “Birthday boy gets the last one.”

Dex winces, his stomach already protesting, but reaches for it with his fork.

Nursey doesn’t mention the surprise for the rest of the day, and while Dex takes advantage of his birthday being on a Saturday by doing absolutely nothing, he entertains thoughts that maybe he forgot.

But finally, once it’s nearly dinnertime, Nursey sneaks up behind him on the couch and jams his Red Sox hat down over his head. “Let’s go. It’s sunny out, wear your hat.”

“Aw, are you worried about my fragile skin?”

“Yeah, your lack of melanin disturbs me.”

Nursey isn’t wearing anything different than normal—skinny jeans, long-sleeved shirt, his ubiquitous green hat—so Dex can’t garner any clues from that. Nor does it give him any impetus to change his own clothes.

“So…where’re we going?”

Nursey checks the time on his phone and impatiently jerks his head toward the front door. “Boston. C’mon, we gotta make the train.”

Dex huffs and follows him. “ _Where_ in Boston?”

“Still a surprise,” he calls out over his shoulder, and that’s all he’ll say about it, no matter how much Dex pesters him about it on the train ride.

They get off the train at Back Bay and walk a couple blocks to pick up the green line at Copley. The T is packed to the gills with people in Red Sox gear, who all stream out when the train stops at Kenmore. Nursey jerks his head toward the door, too, and Dex follows him, in a bit of a daze.

“Nursey.” His voice comes out like a warning, and he has to speak a little louder to be heard over the crush of people. “Where are we going?”

“You’re a smart guy, Dex,” he calls out over his shoulder as he takes the steps two at a time. “Figure it out.”

Is this a trick?

The Citgo sign is like _right there_ and as soon as they turn onto Brookline to get on the bridge over the Turnpike, Dex can see the Fenway lights.

“Nurse. What the _actual_ fuck, what are we doing here?”

Nursey gestures gallantly, looking way too proud of himself. “Happy birthday, bro.”

Dex is flustered, unbelievably so, and he’s pretty sure he gapes like a fish for a solid 20 seconds before he can say anything. “Nursey…”

“Not _one_ more word, Poindexter, I swear to god,” he says, his face turning serious. “It is your birthday, and this is a gift. You will say thank you like a polite human being or I will call your mother and tell her you were mean to me.”

Dex hesitates. Part of him wants to call Nursey’s bluff, but sadly, he would _definitely_ do it and then Dex would have to deal with a lecture from his mom on “being rude to that poor boy.” His mom weirdly loves Nursey.

“Thank you,” he says instead, forcing the words out, and Nursey grins, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Awesome, let’s go.”

The line to get in is long, and Nursey never even lets Dex see the tickets, just hands both to the guy and then immediately sticks them back in his pocket. To keep Dex from seeing the price, surely, which is probably a good idea. He _knows_ that Nursey spent over a hundred for this whole evening, easy, but maybe if he doesn’t have hard proof, he’ll freak out about it less.

The underbelly of Fenway is tiny and cramped and makes Dex feel like a giant—it’s freaking awesome. It’s the last weekend of the regular season, and even though the Red Sox have already secured their playoff bid, the crowd is still raucous. The seats are amazing, maybe only about 30 rows behind the Sox dugout, and even though Nursey laughs at him pretty much constantly, he’s very patient while Dex fangirls over just about everything.

Dex buys a ridiculously-overpriced beer, just because he _can_ now, but he doesn’t even get carded, for fuck’s sake. He lords it over Nursey for a little while but eventually splits it with him. They eat peanuts and hot dogs, and the whole evening is so plainly enjoyable that the Sox winning is just icing on the cake.

The weather is still nice, so they walk back to Back Bay, swept up in the jubilant Fenway crowd. Boston is lively and bustling at night, crowded in a way that Dex isn’t used to. It’s weird, somehow, to be out in the world with Nursey, when the vast majority of their interactions happen in the secluded refuge of the Samwell campus. He looks completely at home on the busy city streets, all relaxed and easy while Dex feels like his shoulders are too broad to share the sidewalk with people, like he’s taking up too much space.

The train is mostly dark, idling underground while everyone boards, and Dex swallows. “Thanks, man, seriously. That was…really awesome.”

Nursey smiles, a genuine one, and bumps their shoulders together. “You’re welcome. Happy birthday.”

They talk about the game a little bit, but Nursey dozes off before they even hit the first stop, slouched down in the seat with his head resting on Dex’s shoulder.

Dex stays as still as possible, trying not to disturb Nursey while he deciphers the weird feeling in his gut. It’s a little tickle behind his ribs, a fluttering that settles into a pleasant warmth. It feels suspiciously like _fondness_ , actually, or maybe something even stronger, and in an instant, Dex knows that he is so incredibly, utterly fucked.

* * *

Dex survives the next 10 or so hours in Nursey’s presence by ruthlessly shoving down any pesky _feelings_ that are threatening to pop up. He’s modestly successful, and that’s only because he’s asleep for most of that time.

He gets up the next morning to go for a run, even though it’s Sunday, because running clears his head and that sounds pretty fucking good right now. Maybe some time stewing with his thoughts will help.

There is exactly one person in the world that he can talk to about this, his childhood best friend, but she’s surely asleep right now, as are most sane people at seven a.m. on a Sunday morning. He texts her anyway, before he leaves, and tries to find a way to phrase _please call me as soon as you can_ that doesn’t make it sound like he’s dying. She’ll worry regardless, surely, because they rarely deviate from their weekly Thursday phone calls. But he definitely can’t make it all the way to Thursday without talking about this—he’ll probably explode.

The run distracts him for a while, as he’d hoped, because the weather is absolutely perfect, crisp and clear. He circles the campus and does a halfway decent job of not thinking about Nursey at all.

His phone buzzes in his pocket after a few miles, and he slows to a walk.

“Why are you awake right now?” he answers, in lieu of a hello, and Becca yawns obnoxiously right into the phone.

“Walk of shame, darling.”

“Aren’t you dating someone? Does it still count as a walk of shame when it’s your girlfriend?”

“When you’re walking across campus in last night’s dress before eight a.m., why yes, yes it does.”

Dex has never had that particular experience, so he’ll take her word for it. “Noted.”

“So what’s up? Why the emergency phone call? Too many birthday shenanigans last night? Are you in jail now, is that what this is?”

Dex rolls his eyes. He can’t exactly tell her the details about last night because she’ll put the pieces together too easily. “Last night was fine. I’m fine.”

“You’re clearly not. What’s going on?”

Buying for time, Dex gives up on his run and sprawls out on the grass. “I think I have a crush on someone,” he blurts out, and he has to pull the phone away from his ear when she shrieks. “Shut up.”

“You never have crushes, this is so exciting. Tell me more.”

“It is not _exciting_ , it’s awful.”

“Oh my god, no it’s not. Calm down, you are so dramatic.”

“I am the exact opposite of that,” he says, and she laughs.

“Tell me, why is it so awful?”

Dex rubs at his forehead. “Nothing’s like, happened. Nothing’s _going to_ happen. So it’s just an inconvenience that I really don’t need right now.”

“You’re such a pessimist,” she says fondly. “Is it a guy? It’s a guy, isn’t it?”

“Possibly,” he admits, and he can practically feel her smile through the phone.

“Your first official dude crush! We should mark this day.”

“That’s not totally true.”

Becca scoffs. “Ryan in high school does _not_ count, trust me. You had no idea you liked guys back then, you just got really huffy about how annoyingly attractive he was. It doesn’t count until you can actually _admit_ that it’s a crush.”

“Shut up,” Dex says around a groan, dropping his hand over his face. “I will do anything if you never bring him up again.”

“Fine. Who is it, then? Who’s the lucky dude?”

He snorts. “ _Fuck_ no, I’m not telling you. You’d stalk them.”

“That’s fair. So what’re you gonna do?”

“What do you mean, what am I gonna do? I’m going to ignore it and wait for it to go away.”

“How brave of you, congratulations,” Becca says dryly. “Can you avoid him?”

Uh, not exactly.

“I can try,” he says instead. “That’s probably the best course of action, right?”

“I mean, sometimes crushes are just fleeting. Maybe you’ll be over it in like three days.”

“Maybe,” he says, but his voice sounds weak even to his own ears.

“Then how’s your roommate? Nursey, right? You guys killed each other yet?”

“Nope,” he says, clenching his eyes shut with a grimace as he tries to keep his voice even. “We’re just fine.”

* * *

**Nursey:** C is in the fetal position in the living room, traumatized after your midterm.  
  
**Nursey:** Please give me an indication as to your emotional state.  
  
**Dex:** Jkfldjkljiuwhuer  
  
**Nursey:** I’m getting a ‘I wanna eat my feelings’ vibe from that, not ‘I wanna get plastered’  
  
**Nursey:** y/y?  
  
**Dex:** That disgustingly huge chocolate muffin from Annie’s  
  
**Dex:** Is all I have to live for  
  
**Nursey:** ON IT

* * *

“Shit, sorry!”

Dex closes the door with a wince—he did _not_ need to see that, and that definitely wasn’t the bathroom. He sighs and tries the next door, which thankfully opens to a bathroom instead of a pair of half-naked girls.

There are a few benefits to going to parties that _aren’t_ at the Haus—mainly, not having clean-up duties—but it’s mostly just annoying. He doesn’t know where anything is, there are usually fewer people that he knows, and the beer is shittier.

He worms his way back to the edge of the main room, where he thinks he spots Chowder against the far wall. Then the song changes, and everyone cheers.

“Dex!”

It is Chowder, who has one arm around Farmer and the other pointing across the room, to where Nursey is attempting to scale the coffee table. Dex hasn’t seen him in an hour or so, and it appears that he’s gotten quite a bit drunker since then.

“I’m on it!” Dex calls out, then manages to dart across the room and wrangle Nursey into his arms before he finishes climbing up.

“Dude,” he whines, struggling weakly in his grip, and Dex _refuses_ to think that it’s cute. “What the hell, man. This is a great song.”

“Nursey, you can _not_ dance to Pony on top of a table. You just can’t.”

“And why not?”

The house would probably explode, for one, to say nothing of the surely-irreparable damage to Dex’s mental state.

“It’s just safer for everyone, okay? Can’t have you getting injured right before the season starts. Let’s go get you some water.”

“ _Lookin’ for a partner_ ,” Nursey sings along as Dex steers him toward the kitchen, and Dex sighs.

“You’re too drunk to be looking for anything except your bed.”

They’re in an _actual_ frat house, which means there’s no way Dex trusts any of the glassware in the cabinets. He dumps out his own red cup instead and fills it with water from the tap.

“Drink this.” He thrusts it into Nursey’s hand and makes sure that he has a good grip before he lets go. “Slowly.”

Nursey nods as he obeys, tipping it upside down a few seconds later to show that’s it’s empty. Dex takes it back and refills it.

“You wanna go?”

“Yeah.” Nursey grimaces and scratches at his hairline. “Head hurts.”

“Okay, then, come on.”

Dex leads them both toward the front door, trying to minimize the effects of Nursey’s clumsiness as much as possible. He’s definitely drunker than Dex thought, so as soon as they get outside, he pulls one of Nursey’s arms around his shoulders and hooks his own around Nursey’s waist.

“Oh my god, dude, you are _sticky_.” He makes a face and tries to find a clean part of Nursey’s shirt to put his hand on instead. “Why are you sticky right now?”

“Beer spill. Somebody spilled on me,” Nursey clarifies, and Dex quirks an eyebrow.

“Are you sure?”

“ _Yes_.” Nursey’s face is petulant—adorably so, to be honest—and Dex has to suppress a snicker. “I remember because it was a lax bro. And I didn’t punch him, even though he didn’t apologize.”

“How big of you.”

“I _know_!”

“What have you been drinking?” Dex asks. He didn’t see anything at the party besides the keg, but he’s certainly never seen Nursey this wrecked over just beer.

“It was worse than tub juice,” he whispers, and Dex makes a face.

“Yuck. You haven’t been this drunk in a while.”

He didn’t mean anything by it, but Nursey sags heavier against him for a second.

“Ugh, I know. I got a shitty grade on a paper, and I didn’t wanna think about it. Which is a shitty reason. But whatever.”

“I’m sorry.”

Nursey makes a noise but thankfully doesn’t say anything else. The balance feels weird between them, since Nursey’s drunk and Dex isn’t, and he really doesn’t want Nursey to say anything that he wouldn’t while sober.

They’re getting closer to the Haus, slowly, and after half a block or so, Dex can feel Nursey staring at him. “What?”

Nursey keeps staring, even though he’s been caught out, and tilts his head. “Why are you wearing my hat?”

“You put it on my head. For ‘safekeeping,’” Dex makes finger quotes with the hand around Nursey’s waist, “while you played beer pong.”

Nursey blinks. “I only vaguely remember that.”

“That’s a shame because you and Whiskey lost in very embarrassing fashion. It was hilarious.” Nursey huffs, but Dex sidesteps the indignation and brings the cup up to his mouth. “Drink more, please.”

Nursey takes the cup and empties it by the time they trudge up the steps to the front door.

“Haus sweet haus,” Nursey mutters, and Dex snorts as he fumbles in his pocket for his key. Bitty’s in Providence for the weekend, and with everyone else still at the party, it’s weirdly dark and quiet. Dex doesn’t bother with any of the lights and just heads for the stairs.

It’s slow-going up the stairs, giving Dex plenty of time to think about how much he’d enjoy this in literally any other circumstance. Nursey is warm where their sides are pressed together, his arm an enjoyably heavy weight across Dex’s shoulders, but his rank beer breath is reminder enough that this isn’t exactly a pleasant scenario.

By the time they get to the threshold of their room, Dex has managed to push it down. “You made it.” His voice sounds forced to his own ears, but Nursey doesn’t seem to notice.

“I wanna shower. Sticky,” Nursey explains unnecessarily, gesturing to himself, so Dex leads him toward the bathroom. He lets his arm slip from around Nursey’s waist, but Nursey grabs at him. “Wait, wait, what if I fall? Stay.”

Dex blinks. “You want me to help you shower.”

“Just like the locker room!” Nursey’s voice is muffled as he strips off his shirt, and Dex stares very, very pointedly at the wall next to Nursey’s head.

“Yep,” he bites out through gritted teeth. “This is just like the locker room.”

He’s seen Nursey naked practically more times than he can count—the locker room, obviously, and it’s not like they always duck into the bathroom just to change clothes—but ever since this fucking crush popped up, he’s made an extra-special effort to avert his eyes at all times. It would feel _way_ too creepy otherwise.

He’s a pro now, though, and as Nursey wiggles out of his jeans, he isn’t even tempted to look.

(Which is a total lie, of course, but he still doesn’t do it.)

Dex bends down to turn the water on—elevation changes are not a friend of Nursey’s when he’s drunk—and jerks in surprise when Nursey braces a hand on his back for balance as he climbs in.

“Be careful. Just rinse off, okay? I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?” Nursey asks, and Dex has to turn around to avoid seeing his earnest face.

“Just to get you some clothes.”

When he gets back, the water’s still running, and Nursey has his eyes closed, both hands braced against the wall. But there are soap suds swirling down the drain, so Dex makes an executive decision that the shower is done. With his gaze fixed above shoulder level, he presses a towel into Nursey’s chest.

“Here, dry off.”

(Dex has _limits_ , okay, he cannot pat Nursey dry.)

Nursey drops the towel about 10 seconds later, with the ease of someone who is way too comfortable with casual nudity, and grabs Dex’s shoulder for balance as he steps into his boxers. Dex studiously considers the grout in the bathroom floor tiles. Is it supposed to be that color? They should probably do a deep-clean sometime soon.

Nursey is finally, mercifully dressed, and Dex juts his chin toward the sink.

“You’ll thank yourself in the morning if you brush your teeth right now.” Nursey gives him a pleading look, and Dex sighs as he uncaps the toothpaste and squeezes a line onto Nursey’s toothbrush. “It’s like having a very large toddler.”

Nursey sticks his tongue out at him—point proven, thank you—but takes the toothbrush. “Thank you.” The words are muffled around the toothbrush, and Dex can’t help but smile a little.

He leaves Nursey to spit and pee in peace but comes back to help him across the bedroom. Dex does not have faith in their combined ability to get Nursey up the ladder to the top bunk, so he keeps a hold of Nursey with one arm and uses the other to tug down the sheets of his own bed. “You can sleep here if you want. Just don’t throw up on my sheets, okay?”

Nursey hiccups and then bursts into giggles. “Promise.”

It’s not the most graceful fall into bed, but since Dex successfully keeps Nursey from bumping his head, he’s considering it a win.

“And you’re buying me breakfast tomorrow to make up for this,” Dex informs him, but Nursey just gives a contented wiggle and nods.

“K. Sleep, please.”

“Where’s your phone?”

Nursey flaps a lazy hand in the direction of the bathroom, his eyes already closed. “Pocket. Pants.”

Dex sighs. He finds Nursey’s phone, which is nearly dead, in one of the back pockets of his jeans, his wallet in the other. He kicks the dirty clothes into a semblance of a pile and tosses the wallet on Nursey’s desk.

He unlocks the phone—Nursey told him the passcode once and then didn’t change it, which Dex takes as permission—and plugs it in before turning on the white noise app that Nursey needs to sleep. It drove Dex nearly insane at first, but now he probably wouldn’t be able to sleep without it, either. At least they managed to compromise on the rain sound so Dex doesn’t have to listen to that goddamn fake “city noise” all night long.

Dex gets ready for bed quietly, since Nursey’s breathing is already deep and even, but when he takes the first step onto the ladder, Nursey flops over with a grunt and swats at Dex’s leg. “Thanks, Dexy.”

“Go to sleep,” is all he says, and Nursey smiles.

Being in the top bunk is weird, even though it should be exactly the same, and Dex has to flip over a couple times before he finds a comfortable position. He _refuses_ to just bury his nose in Nursey’s sheets—he’s above that, okay, even though they smell really good, like the cologne he always wears—and just tries to concentrate on the sound of the rain instead.

* * *

**Dex:** I’m doing laundry, and I’m in a very generous mood. Want me to throw yours in, too?  
  
**Nursey:** DUDE YES  
  
**Nursey:** Cold water only, pls. And the button-downs shouldn’t go in the dryer.  
  
**Dex:**...  
  
**Dex:** We'll see

* * *

“Dude, that was fucking sick.”

Nursey’s practically vibrating with excitement, delightfully _unchill_ as he bounces from standing to sitting to standing again, and Dex bites back a smile. They’re waiting outside the back door of Faber, having just won their season opener—against BU, no less—and he feels like the calm one for once. “We were pretty good,” he admits, and Nursey scoffs.

“ _Pretty_ good? We were awesome.”

“You’re just happy because you got a goal.”

It was a pretty one, Dex can freely admit, and Nursey grins. “Yeah, but you got _two_ assists. And our plus-minus was awesome. Day one of the Nurse-Poindexter reign was a success.”

“Why can’t it be Poindexter-Nurse?”

“Because that sounds dumb.”

“Hey, I—”

“Will!”

Dex spins around to see who’s yelling his name, and holy shit that’s _Becca_ , wearing a Samwell shirt and a BU hat. He lets his bag drop before catching her into a hug, and she plants a smacking kiss on his cheek. He sets her back down once she starts wiggling and grins. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Yeah, that’s called a _surprise_.”

He thumbs at the brim of her hat, flipping it off her head. “But what the fuck is this? You can’t come here wearing that shit.”

Becca shoves at him with a huff and bends down to pick it up. “I have to show _some_ school loyalty, you know. I came with people.”

“Are they here?” He looks around. “Do you have to go?”

“Nah, they already left. Can I stay?”

“Yeah, of course,” he says, before remembering that he shares a room with someone. He turns to Nursey, who’s watching them curiously, his brow furrowed. “Nursey, Becca, Becca, Nursey. Okay if she stays with us tonight?”

“Yeah, sure,” he says, with his _chill_ smile on. “Are you a Poindexter?”

“Thankfully no,” she says, making Nursey laugh and Dex roll his eyes. Even though Becca’s almost a foot shorter than him and has green eyes instead of brown, their matching red hair was enough for many people to assume that they were siblings.

“We grew up together,” Dex explains.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Nursey,” Becca says, grinning, and Dex sighs. Nursey just grins right back at her.

“All lies, I swear.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” She side-eyes Dex, and he shoots her a warning look. Thankfully, she drops it. “Congrats, by the way, that was an awesome win. My friends almost ditched me for cheering for you.”

“You have excellent taste,” Nursey tells her, and she takes a little bow. Dex always _knew_ they would get along, probably too well. Great.

“I’m starving, though,” Becca says. “Is there a place around here to eat?”

“Yeah, sure.” Dex picks up his bag again and turns to Nursey. “Do you—”

“I’m gonna wait for Chowder,” he interrupts. “I’ll see you back for the party?”

Dex nods. “It was great to meet you!” Becca calls out to Nursey, waving until Dex tugs her away.

“Thanks for coming,” he says, pulling her closer for a second. “It’s really awesome that you’re here.”

“Couldn’t miss your first first-line game. Plus, your parents wanted live text updates. Your mom says to tell you to call tomorrow.”

“Got it,” he says with a snort. He leads them to a diner not that far away, one of those college-catered places that’s open late and serves breakfast all the time. Breakfast food, no matter the time of day, is kind of their thing, and they barely have to look at the menu.

“The usual?” Becca asks, once they’re seated in a booth in the corner, and he nods. They always get an omelet and pancakes and then split them.

“So how’s…” Dex trails off, hoping that Becca will help him out, but she just tilts her head and narrows her eyes. Shit. He thinks harder. “Marilyn!”

“Don’t look so proud of yourself,” she mutters, plucking two sugar packets from the container to fiddle with. “We dated for like, two months, you should remember her name.”

“In my defense, I barely ever go on Facebook. And wait, _dated_? That’s past tense.”

“Yeah.” Becca sighs. “She ended it, she wanted to _see other people_ or whatever.”

“Shit, that sucks. You want me to go beat her up?”

She snorts. “Thanks, I think I’ll pass.”

“Offer’s always open,” he says, and even though Becca rolls her eyes, she’s smiling.

“How ‘bout we talk about your love life instead?”

Dex sighs. “That’s not a thing that exists.”

“Oh, really.”

“Nope.”

Their food comes then, at least, and he’s hoping it’s enough to distract her. They divvy their food and swap it, but when Becca ignores her pancakes in favor of staring at him, he knows he’s in trouble. “So. Nursey.”

Shit.

Dex grimaces. “I don’t wanna talk about Nursey.”

“Too fuckin’ bad. It’s him, isn’t it? Your lil’ _crush_.”

There is no point in denying it, although Dex takes a defiant bite of his pancakes before answering. “You knew.”

It’s not a question, and she nods.

“Billy, I knew before you even told me that there _was_ a crush in the first place.”

Dex makes a face and steals an extra forkful from her half of the pancakes. Serves her right. “That’s impossible. I told you, like, _right_ after I figured it out.”

“Yeah, exactly. I figured it out faster.”

Dex rolls his eyes. “When’d you figure it out?”

She snorts and pushes her pancakes through a pool of maple syrup. “I was a little skeptical before, just because you talked about him so much. But then you went and built him a goddamn bookcase.”

“Okay.” He points his fork at her. “I did not build that _for_ him. We needed that for our room.”

“You asked me which _stain color_ I thought was nicer!”

“That’s a legitimate question!”

“Why are you even trying to deny this?”

He stabs mulishly at his omelet. It’s a little embarrassing that she knew before he did, for fuck’s sake. “I dunno. Whatever. Were you ever going to _inform me_ that I had a crush on my roommate?”

She shrugs. “Maybe. But you figured it out pretty fast.”

“And what about all that BS you told me about how my crush might be fleeting?”

“Oh, yeah, that was total bullshit, I was just trying to make you feel better. You never crush on anyone, ever. You’re an all-in kinda guy.”

He’d really rather not discuss how _all-in_ he is. “Do you think it’s obvious?” he asks instead, and Becca shrugs again.

“Probably not. I could tell because you talked about him all the time. If you didn’t like him, then you just wouldn’t care. You…” She hesitates. “You _really_ care about the people who are important to you. But he might not know that, so he might not be picking up on it.”

The thought of Nursey finding out about Dex’s crush makes him want to _die_. “This is an awful conversation, and I want it to be known how much I’m hating this,” he says, but exactly as expected, she ignores him.

“Does he like guys?”

Dex fiddles with his straw wrapper. “He’s never, like, come out to the team or something. But we’ve all seen him talk to guys at parties and stuff, so I’m pretty sure he does.”

He’s pretty envious, actually, of how comfortable Nursey seems to be in his own skin, like it’s so _chill_ that he doesn’t even have to bother with telling people.

“And why do you like him?”

He hesitates, then shakes his head. “I _really_ don’t wanna talk about this.”

“Once again, too bad.” She waves her fork in his face, and he bats it down with a huff. “Remember senior year, I helped you with that term paper for English? You said I could have _anything_.”

“Are you fucking serious? You’ve been holding onto that for what, almost three years, and this is what you want in return?”

“Yep, and now I’m cashing it in. Spill.”

Dex sighs, hoping that his face conveys _just_ how much he doesn’t want to talk about this. Which is a lot. “He’s…good at hockey.”

“He’s good at hockey,” Becca repeats, wrinkling her nose. “Weak. Try again.”

“He’s, uh, really smart. And funny. And he works hard. And I—”

He stops himself, flushing, and she pounces on it.

“You what? C’mon, tell me.”

“I just like him, okay? He makes me happy, I like spending time with him. I wish I could spend, like, every minute with him. Which is ridiculous.”

Dex’s face is on _fire_ , he can tell, and he busies himself with his omelet for a little while. When he finally looks up again, Becca’s smile is genuine, not teasing.

“Well, that’s nice.”

“It’s not _nice_ , it’s fucking aggravating.”

“What if he likes you back?”

Dex’s whole body heats at the mere suggestion. “I just—I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

He would really rather not recite a list of his faults—even though he’s self-aware enough to know that some of them might just be _perceived_ faults, and plus, Becca is in his corner more than anyone—so he just shakes his head. “It doesn’t…that isn’t even the thing. We’re friends now. Like, really good friends. And we play together. I don’t wanna screw that up.”

Becca taps her fork against her lips. “So if he came up to you and was like, _Dex, bro_ —”

“Your impression is terrible,” he interrupts, and she laughs.

“Oh, is my voice not dreamy enough?” Her eyebrow quirks, and Dex rolls his eyes. “So if he told you that he liked you back—hopefully with, you know, more romantic words—you would just be like, sorry, bro, don’t wanna mess up our friendship?”

Dex has not let himself go down that hypothetical path, and he’s not about to start now. He’s pretty sure his face gives him away, though.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Becca says.

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself.”

Becca shrugs, but she’s grinning as she pushes her plate away. “I’m proud of you, sharing all these _emotions_. I’ll buy dinner to make up for it.”

“You fucking better.”

* * *

By the time they get back to the Haus, the kegster is already in full-swing, with music thumping and people spilling from the doors.

“Home sweet home.”

Becca wrinkles her nose. “You live in a frat house.”

“Yep,” he says, dubiously proud. “Our room is nice, though, don’t worry.”

They sneak through the party to drop their bags off in the room, then run into Holster on the way back down.

“Dex!” he yells. He yanks him into a bear hug, and Dex has to struggle to stay balanced on the stairs. “That game was so goddamn gorgeous, I’m so proud of you guys. And please introduce me to your beautiful friend.”

Dex rolls his eyes. “This is Becca, my friend from Maine. She goes to BU. Becca, this is Holster. He graduated last year.”

“Very nice to meet you,” he says, bowing as he shakes her hand, “although I thoroughly enjoyed watching my team beat the shit out of yours tonight.”

He flounces away, wearing only short shorts and a bandanna, and Becca tilts her head. “I think I like your team,” she says, and Dex snorts.

“It only gets weirder from there. Just stay away from the tub juice.”

The season opener is serving as an informal SMH alumni reunion, apparently, and Dex loses Becca after introducing her to a couple other people. He finds her again in the kitchen, and Nursey comes stumbling in after him.

“Why are the lax bros even _here_ , shit. Fuckin’ Whiskey.” Nursey shakes his head and points at Dex, clearly already a little drunk. “Dude, watch out. I saw one of ‘em—one of the Chads, I think—tryin’ to hit on your girl.”

Dex blinks. “She’s not _my girl_ ,” he says, complete with finger quotes.

Nursey sees Becca behind him and winces. “Sorry. Possessive language is lame.”

Dex looks at Becca, still confused, but she just rolls her eyes. “We’re not _together_ , Nursey, oh my god.”

Now it’s Nursey’s turn to look confused. “Uh, really?”

Becca smirks at him. “Been best friends since we were eight. And,” she adds, gesturing to herself, “you know, _super_ gay.”

“Dude.” Dex, who finally understands what’s going on, smacks Nursey on the arm. “How the hell could I have a _girlfriend_ without you knowing about it? Are you serious?”

“I don’t know! You’re pretty private, bro.” He shrugs and takes a long pull from the cup in his hand. “Now I’m less worried about third-wheeling your sex weekend, though.”

Becca makes a face and Dex rolls his eyes. “Jesus Christ.”

“We did _used_ to date, though,” Becca says with a sigh, and Dex hides his smile behind the rim of his cup as Nursey’s eyebrows shoot up, looking intrigued.

“Oh, really? What happened?”

“Power couple of the fifth grade,” Dex says solemnly, and Nursey bursts out laughing.

“How’d you manage to screw that up?” he asks, still laughing, and Dex pretends to be affronted.

“Harsh, man. I was _committed_.”

“Will was the perfect boyfriend.” Becca shoots Dex a little knowing wink, and okay, this is a little heavy-handed. “He would give me the animal crackers out of his lunch—”

“The best part,” Nursey cuts in.

“Obviously. And would make little chains out of flowers and give them to me.”

Dex is a little embarrassed for his 10-year-old self. “How do you even _remember_ that?”

“There are pictures.”

Nursey’s eyes light up, but Dex lifts a hand. “Don’t even.”

“Oh, I _am_. I’m texting your mom right now, I will do anything to see those pictures.”

“ _What_? Since when do you text my mom?”

Nursey just shrugs as he taps at his phone, and then they start tussling, elbowing at each other until Dex manages to wrangle the phone from him. He has Nursey in a headlock with one arm and uses the other hand to scroll through his texts. There are, thankfully, only a few in his thread with Dex’s mom, mostly just saying hello on holidays and— “What the fuck, man, how do you know my mom’s birthday?”

“It’s the passcode on your phone.”

“But how do you even—” Dex cuts himself off and shakes his head. “Whatever. You can’t text her now, it’s late.”

“Oh, so I can text her later?”

Nursey’s eyes are bright, and Dex belatedly realizes that they’re still tangled together. He stands up abruptly and lets his arm fall from around Nursey’s neck before he presses his phone against his chest.

“So how did this fairytale romance end?” Nursey asks, and Becca tilts her head.

“We had a good, what, three weeks?”

“I had to end it.” Dex sighs. “You talked too much about Rosie Walter’s hair. I should’ve seen the signs.”

Becca huffs, but she’s smiling. “She had _beautiful_ hair, I still maintain that.”

“Nicer than this?” Nursey runs his hand through Dex’s hair, making Becca laugh, and he swats his hand away, his cheeks red.

She holds her hand over her heart with an overwrought sigh. “Still the only boy I’ve ever dated.”

“I raised the bar too high, I’m sorry.”

Becca smacks his arm, then the music switches to some song that Dex vaguely recognizes from high school, eliciting hollers throughout the Haus. Someone turns the music up, until the walls are practically vibrating, and Nursey spins to face Becca, his features pulled into an expression of faux sincerity. “Becca. May I please have this dance?”

Dex loses them both pretty much immediately after that. He hangs out with Chowder and Farmer for a while, catches up with Jack, and watches Lardo and Ransom absolutely decimate a pair of lax bros at beer pong. Once he realizes that he hasn’t seen Becca or Nursey in a long time, he makes a loop of the Haus. He doesn’t find them anywhere, even upstairs, but he finally runs into Tango coming out of the bathroom. “Hey. You seen Nursey?”

He nods and jerks his head toward the back door. “Saw him head outside a while ago. With a girl,” he says, complete with an eyebrow waggle, and Dex sighs.

“Thanks, man.” He claps Tango on the shoulder and gently pushes past him. Dex _really_ hopes he’s with Becca, and he doesn’t even bother telling himself that’s just because he wants to know where she is.

There are a couple groups of people in the backyard, including Becca and Nursey sitting cross-legged next to each other.

“And when his,” Nursey hiccups, “his ears turn red when he’s embarrassed.”

“Yessss,” Becca hisses, breaking out into hysterical laughter and tipping over to lean against Nursey’s shoulder. Dex closes his eyes, praying for strength.

“So you two really have nothing better to do than talk about me?”

“How’d you know we were talking about you?” Nursey tips back to look at him, resting the crown of his head against Dex’s legs.

“Sixth sense,” he says dryly as he sits down. Becca immediately puts her head in his lap, and he starts playing with her hair in that way she hates.

“You’re making it all frizzy,” she snaps, but she doesn’t move away.

“I’ve been getting all the dirt on you,” Nursey informs him, and Dex narrows his eyes.

“What kinda dirt?”

“Don’t worry, Billy.” Becca clumsily pats at his thigh. “Not the really bad stuff.”

“That your nickname is Billy, for one,” Nursey says, grinning.

“It’s not my _nickname_. She’s the only one who calls me that.”

Dex is tipsy but probably not as drunk as either of them. He leans back on his hands and stays mostly out of the conversation while they talk.

“Okay, I’m tired,” Becca says after a while. She sits up carefully and slings one arm around Dex’s neck. “Can I have a ride, please?”

Becca has weirdly loved piggyback rides ever since they were kids, and it’s kind of nice to know that she still does. “Yep, come on.” He stands, and she hops easily onto his back.

“Aw,” Nursey says, pouting. “How come she gets a piggyback ride?”

“Cause she probably weighs 70 pounds less than you,” Dex retorts, and Nursey makes a face.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re weak, I get it.”

“Shut up. You coming, too?”

Nursey nods and reaches a hand up. Dex takes it and helps haul him to his feet, making sure that he’s steady.

The party has started to die down, thankfully, and it’s not too loud up in their room.

“Who’s on the bottom?” Becca asks as she slides to her feet with a thump. She bursts into giggles, and Dex scrubs his hands over his face.

Thankfully, the accidental joke seems to have gone straight over Nursey’s head. He points to the bottom bed and then promptly climbs in. “Dex’s bed. I sleep here when I’m drunk,” he informs her, very seriously. “It’s tradition.”

“Oh, _really_?” Becca drawls, and Dex can only imagine the look on her face. He busies himself with the dresser and doesn’t turn around.

“Twice is not a tradition.”

After lying down next to Nursey, Becca magically pulls her bra out of her shirt sleeve—Dex will never not be impressed by that trick—and makes grabby hands at him.

“What, what do you want?”

“Shorts, please.”

He rifles through the dresser and grabs the first pair of boxers he sees, tossing them to her. And then there are two people in Dex’s bed taking off their jeans, which is a very weird thing.

“Okay,” he says, hands on his hips. “ _Someone_ has to sleep on the top.”

“Not it,” Becca and Nursey say in unison, and Dex sighs.

“Fine,” he bites out.

“ _Noooo_.” Becca reaches for his arm and tugs. “Billy’s the best cuddler, did you know that, Nursey?”

Nursey gasps, feigning surprise. “I did _not_ , how could you not tell me that?”

“This really isn’t going to work,” he starts, but then Nursey grabs his arm, too, and he’s a lot harder to fend off than Becca is. “Come on, three people literally won’t fit in this bed.”

“Nope, cuddle pile, c’mere,” Becca says, and Dex nearly crushes her when Nursey yanks him off-balance.

“Oh my god, you guys are the worst.”

They don’t seem to hear him, instead moving around to get comfortable—as much as is possible when three people are sharing a twin XL, anyway, which is to say not very much. Nursey is nestled against the wall, Becca has one arm slung across Dex’s waist, and Dex has about six inches of mattress and a third of a pillow.

He’ll just wait until they fall asleep and then move up to the top bunk.

* * *

Dex wakes feeling like he’s about to overheat out of his body. He’s facing the wall, which is disorienting, and that does _not_ feel like Becca’s back pressed against his.

It takes a second for the words to filter through the haze, but after a second, he can hear them talking behind him.

“And he was cool with it?” Nursey whispers, and Becca snorts.

“Are we talking about the same person here? Of _course_ he was cool with it. He was the first person I came out to, when we were 13.”

Oh, shit—they’re talking about him.

Dex is tempted to keep feigning sleep so he can eavesdrop, but he groans out a yawn instead and twists onto his back in the microscopic amount of room that he has. He’s firmly wedged against Nursey now, and he tries to ignore the sheer amount of skin that’s pressed against his.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Becca says.

“How the fuck did I end up over here?”

“I had to pee,” Nursey offers.

“And then he woke me up and I had to go, so we just kinda scooted you over.”

“Becca was right, by the way,” Nursey adds. “A-plus cuddler.”

Dex rolls his eyes, and Becca laughs. “So am I gonna get, like, tetanus or something if I use your shower?”

“Hey,” Dex complains, mostly into his pillow. “We clean that bathroom every week.”

She makes a skeptical noise but rolls out of bed anyway, slamming the bathroom door shut behind her. Dex lets his eyes slide shut again, still caught in that early-morning limbo between consciousness and not.

Nursey shifts after a minute, his knee bumping into Dex’s thigh, and Dex freezes, suddenly alert again. He and Nursey are still _sharing a bed_ , which should probably be weird.

But Dex is still on the inside, so he can’t escape without literally climbing over Nursey, which doesn’t seem like the most prudent decision. He turns back toward the wall instead, tucking his arm up underneath the pillow, and dozes off before he registers if Nursey moves or not.

* * *

“No, no, no.” Dex shakes his head and tugs at Nursey’s wrist. “Don’t use your whole hand, just your fingertips.”

Nursey scowls down at the bowl of dough in front of him but obeys. “What, why?”

“You want to keep it as cold as possible, and hands are warm. Touch it as little as possible.”

“You’re being a little anal about this, dude.”

“I’m in _charge of the pies_ ,” Dex hisses. “Do you have any idea how terrifying that is? Bitty’ll probably kick me off the team if I screw it up.”

“Valid,” Nursey admits.

Bitty, who is apparently busy with everything _else_ it takes to feed a dozen people for Hausgiving, for some reason he thought it was appropriate to delegate the pies to Dex. When Bitty informed him of this last week, Dex just stared at him, wide-eyed. Bitty patted his cheek. “You’re my number one sous chef, darlin’, you’re ready,” he said.

Dex doesn’t exactly agree, but yet here they are. He drafted Nursey’s help because four pies—pumpkin, maple apple, bourbon pecan, _and_ chocolate silk—is a lot of work, and he’s more than a little stressed out about it.

“Okay!” Nursey announces, holding his hands up in the air. “I’m done, how does it look?”

Dex peers over his shoulder. “Nice. Thanks.”

“What’s next?”

Dex consults his to-do list, complete with recipes and approximate times that the various pies should be in the oven. Everyone’s already made fun of him for it, but he’d like to see _them_ coordinate dessert.

“You want me to slice those apples?” Nursey continues.

Dex grimaces. Nursey is an adult who is more than capable of handling a kitchen knife, obviously, but Dex would rather not risk his clumsiness.

“I don’t want you to get hurt.” That comes out sounding a little more earnest than he’d like, shit. “I have a schedule for today, and there is no room on it to take you to the ER.”

Nursey rolls his eyes, and yeah, that’s better. “But you’re admitting that you _would_ take me to the ER.”

“It depends if the pies were in the oven or not.”

Nursey knocks their shoulders together and leans into Dex to look at the list. “Very funny. Can I make the pecan filling?”

“Sure. The recipe’s on there somewhere.”

They work companionably for a while, without incident until Dex’s wrist glances off the top of the oven while he’s taking out a sheet pan full of roasted pecans.

“Holy mother of fuck, ow, ow, _ow_.”

The pan clatters on the stove top, and Dex clutches at his hand, biting his lip in a futile attempt to keep the string of curses at bay.

Nursey carefully pulls Dex’s hand away from his chest and tuts as he looks at the angry red line on his wrist. “Well well well. How the turntables.”

Dex’s wrist hurts like a motherfucker, but he snorts anyway. “Don’t quote Michael Scott at me.”

“Who would’ve guessed that you’d have the first kitchen injury of the day?”

Nursey tows him by the hand over to the sink and forces his wrist under a stream of cold water. He keeps his grasp on Dex’s hand and stands shoulder-to-shoulder with him, although Dex is fully capable of holding his own arm under the tap. Nursey seems to realize the same thing after a second and releases his grip.

“Keep it there. Five minutes. Tell me what to do next.”

Dex sighs and braces one elbow on the edge of the sink. “Can you separate eggs?”

“Talk me through it.”

* * *

By the time he and Nursey produce four decent-looking pies, with a distinct lack of blood, fist fights, or harsh words, Dex is ready to call Hausgiving a resounding success.

“Oh my god,” Chowder says, mumbling through a mouthful of the chocolate silk. “This is hella good, man. It tastes like a s’more.”

“The meringue _is_ very marshmallowy. Good job, Dex.”

Bitty’s practically licked his plate clean, which Dex takes as the highest type of compliment. “Thanks.”

“I’ve never had a s’more,” Nursey offers, and everyone stares at him.

“Dude, are you _serious_?” Whiskey says, his brow furrowed.

“Yeah, how is that even possible?” Dex asks.

“I’ve never been camping!”

“Wow, what a deprived childhood,” Dex says dryly, and Nursey laughs.

“I was a boy scout,” Tango offers, which is somehow not surprising.

“I’ve always wanted to, though,” Nursey says, through a mouthful of bourbon pecan. “S’mores, hot dogs, the whole shebang.”

“Maybe we could go this summer,” Bitty suggests. “Or after graduation or something. As like a team thing.”

Nursey seems appeased by this.


	2. Let Me Taste Your Smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy some fluffy smut. ♥

**Nursey:** I forgot my keys and no one’s home.  
  
**Nursey:** Dexxxxx  
  
**Nursey:** It’s cold and it looks like I’m loitering. If I get arrested, pls come bail me out.   
  
**Nursey:** Ugh you’re in class right now, aren’t you.  
  
**Nursey:** Omg dude are you such a nerd that you actually turn your phone off in class?  
  
**Nursey:** Don’t make me seek shelter with the lax douches.  
  
**Dex:** Fuckkkk the lax bros.  
  
**Dex:** I'll be there in 5.

* * *

Dex is, admittedly, pathetic.

He’s standing by the wall, toning out the thumping bass while half-heartedly listening to Whiskey tell some story about one of the lax bros. But he’s mostly watching Nursey, who’s sprawled on the couch across the room, talking to some girl.

(Dex is also pining. Can’t forget the pining.)

Nursey isn’t even _flirting_ with her, it doesn’t look like, they’re just talking. Not that Dex would have any justification to be upset even if he were flirting, of course. But he’s still jealous. _He_ wants to be the one talking to Nursey, the one making him laugh like that.

Yeah, he’s pathetic. And drunk. Shit.

“Dex?”

He blinks a few times and focuses on Whiskey. “Uh, yeah?”

“You good, dude?”

Dex nods and stares down at his cup. “Yeah. Just need a refill. Be right back.”

He pushes off the wall and swallows half a glass of tub juice in one gulp, which is, in hindsight, a pretty terrible idea. An even _worse_ idea is finding more, but Dex is sad about goddamn Nursey and also just drunk enough to be confident in his decision that more alcohol is definitely the answer to his troubles.

He stumbles into the hallway with the keg, which is mostly empty except for one faintly-familiar-looking guy, whom Dex promptly crashes into. Their limbs tangle, but Dex has just enough coordination left to keep them upright. His hand lands on the guy’s stomach, and _whoa_ , he can feel his abs through his shirt. He flushes, straightening. “God, sorry.”

The guy laughs and shakes his head, not bothering to move away. “No worries. It’s Dex, right?”

Dex blinks. “Yeah,” he says slowly. “How’d you know that?”

“A bunch of us went to the game tonight. Number 24, right? I may have, uh, asked what your name was.”

He scratches at his neck, looking down, and Dex freezes. That’s…this is like a come-on situation, right? He’s pretty drunk, but he’s fairly sure that’s what’s going on here. Fuck.

Dex racks his brain for how he knows this guy. He’s a couple inches shorter than Dex and slighter, with blond hair and blue eyes. Finally, he remembers.

“Um, soccer team, right?”

And, he’s objectively very attractive, especially when he smiles. “Yeah. Alex.”

“Nice to meet you.” For some godforsaken reason, Dex sticks out his hand, but Alex just laughs and takes it. He doesn’t let go, though, and instead twines their fingers together. Dex swallows but doesn’t take his hand back.

“You wanna dance?”

_What_ is happening here. Dex shakes his head and tries to smile. “I am an awful dancer, trust me, you probably shouldn’t be seen near me.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Alex says with a grin. “I don’t think I’d mind being seen with you anywhere.”

Sober Dex would think that was a _ridiculous_ line, well worth endless amounts of mocking, but drunk Dex is just flattered.

And he’s even more flattered when Alex just leans right up and kisses him, pressing him up against the wall. Dex goes with it easily and releases Alex’s hand to wrap his arm around his waist instead.

They’re both pretty drunk, so it’s a little on the sloppy side, but it’s more than enough to get Dex’s blood pumping. He hasn’t kissed a guy since like, February, and he can freely admit that he’s missed it, missed the sharp planes of a chest against his and a hard thigh inching between his legs.

Alex is enthusiastic in a gratifying way, making little noises into Dex’s mouth and digging his fingers slightly into the skin of Dex’s stomach, under his shirt. Dex is still too stunned to do much in response, but he clutches at him and—

Someone clears their throat next to them, loudly, and it takes a second for the noise to register in Dex’s brain. He pulls back, taking Alex’s weight when he stumbles a little, and freezes when he sees Nursey, standing right next to them with his arms crossed over his chest. He wants to wipe his mouth on his sleeve, but he doesn’t dare move. “Uh, hi.”

“Hi, _Dex_ ,” Nursey says, his tone sharper than Dex is used to hearing it. “What’s going on here? You’re pretty drunk.”

“Dude, what the fuck,” Alex says, glaring at Nursey, and well, _that_ isn’t cool.

“Hey,” Dex snaps, but they seem to be ignoring him now.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Nursey says to Alex, who just rolls his eyes.

“Who even are you?”

“Who are _you_?”

Alex takes a step closer, which is pretty ballsy considering that Nursey’s a lot bigger than him, and Dex sighs. “Oh, Jesus Christ.”

It doesn’t look like they’re going to _fight_ , not exactly, they’re just kind of staring at each other. Dex still puts a hand on each of their chests, separating them a little, because what the _fuck_ is even happening right now, honestly. He is way too drunk for this shit.

“Okay. Well, it was very nice to, uh, meet you, Alex.”

Dex claps him on the shoulder awkwardly—now he’s going to have to avoid this guy for the rest of his college career, great—and runs the fuck away. He’s sober enough to realize that this is a big deal, that Nursey just saw him kissing a guy. There’s no other way to spin that, really. He’s also sober enough to know that he’s too drunk for that conversation right now.

Nursey must be able to tell that he doesn’t exactly want to talk right now because mercifully, he doesn’t follow Dex to their room.

He tiptoes in about 20 minutes later, but by then Dex is safely curled toward the wall, pretending to be asleep.

* * *

Dex’s fucking body clock ensures that his eyes are wide open before eight a.m., and he groans quietly once he registers the headache behind his eyes. Last night was the most he’s had to drink in a long time, and he takes a second to curse his choices. Tub juice, pining over Nursey, Alex, whatever the hell happened between _Nursey_ and Alex. Fuck.

After a thorough round of self-castigation, Dex peels himself out of bed. He gave Nursey shit for the minifridge at the beginning, but he can admit that it comes in handy for the essentials: beer, protein shakes, and Gatorade.

He feels a little more human after he chugs half a Gatorade and washes his face. He quietly picks through the dresser for running clothes and comes up with a pair of his running pants and one of Nursey’s long-sleeved shirts. It’s December, but since there isn’t snow on the ground just yet, Dex considers it fair game for running.

He doesn’t drink as much as he did freshman year for many reasons, not the least of which is the hangovers. Running always makes him feel better, though, even if he wants to die for the first 10 minutes, so he forces himself to go downstairs.

 It’s cold as _shit_ outside, but maybe that’ll just numb the pain of running while hungover. He starts to jog in place, just to get the blood pumping, and stretches his arm across his chest.

The front door bangs behind him, and he spins around, surprised beyond belief to see Nursey on the porch, bleary-eyed but also dressed in running clothes. Nursey lifts a hand in an aborted wave. “Hey.”

Dex blinks. “Hi.”

“Can I join you?”

“Uh, sure.”

They head north and run in silence for about five minutes, until Nursey makes a displeased noise. “God, why do you even _do_ this?”

“It makes you feel better,” Dex says, then winces. “Eventually.”

Nursey groans. “If I have to stop to puke, I’m doing it _on you_.”

“You didn’t have to come,” Dex shoots back, and Nursey shoves him.

They run a little while longer, until Nursey clears his throat. “So. About last night.”

Dex groans internally. He has to have an awkward morning-after talk, and he didn’t even get so much as an orgasm out of it. Great.

He takes a deep breath and rips off the band-aid.

“I, uh, like dudes sometimes.”

Nursey looks like he’s on the verge of laughter, and Dex glares at him. “You _like dudes sometimes_. That is the most poetic coming out I’ve ever heard.”

“Just…it’s not a big deal, okay?” he says. Nursey looks skeptical, and Dex huffs. “I’m not, like, _ashamed_ of it or anything. I swear. I just—”

“Hey.” Nursey’s voice is soft, and Dex grits his teeth. “You don’t have to tell me anything, or justify yourself to me.”

“I _know_ ,” he spits, then takes a deep breath and focuses straight ahead. God, this is awkward. At least he doesn’t have to look Nursey in the eye. “Look, it’s…it’s not like I’ve ever dated a guy or anything. Sometimes I have a hard time believing that it’s real or whatever, you know? But if that happens— _when_ that happens, whatever—I have no desire to hide anything. I’d tell people, if there was ever anything…real.”

Nursey nods, and they run another half-block. “I don’t remember the exact phrase I’m supposed to use. _Thank you for trusting me with this moment_ , I think?”

He’s grinning, and Dex laughs. He’s grateful beyond measure that Nursey isn’t making this any more awkward than it has to be.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he says quietly, but Nursey shakes his head.

“Hey, I get it, okay? It’s all very confusing.”

Dex takes a deep breath and stretches his neck. “Yeah, I know.”

“I mean, you know that I’m not even out to everyone. I get it,” he says, and Dex nods. It’s quiet again for a while, the only noise their shoes slapping against the pavement, until Nursey twists his head to look at him. “Can I offer you a piece of advice?”

“Uh…okay.”

“If you’re trying to keep this on the down low, you might not wanna make out with a guy at a party, right _next to_ the keg.”

Dex groans and shoves at Nursey’s shoulder, making him trip. “Shut up, I was drunk.”

“Yeah, I could tell,” he says, laughing. “But sorry I, ya know, scared him off or whatever.”

Nursey _doesn’t_ look particularly sorry, actually, but Dex doesn’t mention it.

“I don’t, uh, I don’t really like to hook up with random people. So I wouldn’t have anyway. Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay.”

Dex is pretty ready to be done with this conversation, so he inches ahead of Nursey and calls out over his shoulder. “Last one back to the Haus does all the laundry!”

“Fuck you, Poindexter!” Nursey yells, but his footsteps are getting closer and Dex grins as he picks up the pace.

* * *

**Dex:** You missed weights this morning.  
  
**Dex:** Careful, your arms are probably shrinking as we speak.  
  
**Dex:** Do you need me to meet you at the library and carry your books home?  
  
**Nursey:** Oh fuck off I can still bench more than you  
  
**Dex:** Not if you keep skipping weights

* * *

When finals come around, the break from hockey is kind of annoying but also much-appreciated. Dex would rather skate suicides on the ice than study for his stats exam, that’s for sure, but at least he doesn’t have to do _both_.

They all survive, though, and before Dex knows it, everyone is splitting up and leaving the Haus in waves, heading for the airport or the train station. The drive up to Maine is more harrowing than Dex would prefer, the roads slick with an early coating of snow and full of the resulting idiotic drivers, stressed because of the weather and the holiday. He relaxes when he crosses the bridge, though, and soon enough he’s pulling into the familiar bumpy driveway. His mom’s on the porch, her arms wrapped around herself in lieu of a jacket, and he waves.

“Hey, kiddo,” she says warmly once he’s out of the car, tugging him close, and he wraps his arms tight around her shoulders.

“Hi, mom.”

“Did you get taller while you were gone?”

Dex pulls back a little and looks down at her—the top of her head only comes up to his chin, which has been the case since he was 17. “Don’t think so. Are you getting shorter?”

“Very funny. Are you eating enough?”

“Promise,” he reassures her.

“Come in, come in.”

He adds his boots to the pile by the front door and drifts after his mom into the kitchen. “Where’s dad?”

“Picking up a few things at the store. You want coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

She puts a pot on while Dex wanders around the kitchen, cataloguing all the little changes—they got a new toaster, thank fuck—and looking at all the new pictures on the fridge of his baby cousins.

She asks about hockey, about school, about everyone on the team. They talk pretty frequently because Dex is decent about calling home on most Sundays, but she doesn’t seem to mind hearing the same stories over again, especially the ones about Nursey.

“And living together is okay? I know you were a little nervous about the whole roommate situation.”

Dex’s shoulders relax. “It’s—it’s good. Really good, actually. He’s great. We’re having a good time.”

She’s looking at him a little curiously, and he swallows. Dex is pretty good at hiding his crush, he thinks, but this is his _mom_. The ability to mind-read comes with the job, he’s pretty sure.

“You know, sweetie,” she says carefully, taking his hand, “if there’s anything you want to—”

“Nope,” he interrupts, standing up, and well, fuck, that’s probably an admission as much as anything. “I’m good.”

His mom lets him flee from the kitchen with his tail practically tucked between his legs, and he exhales, thankful for small mercies.

* * *

The rest of break passes without incident. Christmas is fun, as it always is. He enjoys the routine of the traditions more than the traditions themselves, almost, but it’s still nice to see his relatives, his asshole Uncle Tom pointedly excluded.

It’s weird to sleep in a room without Nursey, and Dex _does_ need the white noise now, fuck. They text a lot, though, and Dex gets a series of inane Snapchats one night when Nursey gets drunk on eggnog, so at least he never seems too far away. They even FaceTime on Christmas, and Dex tries not to be too jealous of how wide Nursey’s smile is, how relaxed he seems.

His mom thankfully never brings up Nursey again, although she gives Dex an extra-long hug when he leaves, and her _I love you_ sounds awfully serious, like she really means it, just in case he’s curious.

* * *

“Dex!”

Dex whirls around. He’s been waiting at the wrong door, clearly, and spots Nursey waving at him from across the train station. “Hey,” he calls back, picking his way through the crowd. “Happy New Year’s Eve, I guess.”

Nursey laughs and pulls him into a loose hug. “Happy New Year’s Eve. What’re you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming til a little later.”

Dex shrugs. “The drive this morning back to Samwell was fast, and I caught an earlier train than I expected. Saw the Acela was the next train, figured you’d be on it.”

“Thanks for waiting, man.” Nursey bumps their shoulders together and pulls his coat tighter around himself as they step outside into the bitter Providence air.

“So how was your break?”

Nursey exhales, his face breaking into a smile. “Awesome. I love Samwell and the Haus and everyone, obviously, but it was really nice to be in New York. What about you?”

“Pretty good.” Dex shrugs. “Same old, same old. Nice to see the family, though.”

“Do your, um, do your parents know? About your, uh…”

“What, my secret superhero identity?” he drawls, and Nursey rolls his eyes.

“I don’t know what label you use!” he exclaims, and well, that’s fair.

“Bi is fine. I guess.”

“Do your parents know that you’re _bi_ , then?”

Dex shakes his head. He hesitates and then decidedly _doesn’t_ mention that his mom might have already guessed. “I haven’t told them,” he says, which isn’t a lie.

“How do you think they’ll take it?”

He sighs. “I think they would be _surprised_ , and it’d probably take a while for them to get used to it, but I can’t imagine them, like…doing something awful.” Dex frowns. “I don’t think.”

“They wouldn’t,” Nursey says quickly.

“How did _your_ parents react?” Dex asks. Nursey’s really close with his parents, there’s no way they don’t know.

“Told ‘em when I was in high school. They didn’t even blink an eye.”

Dex nods. He has learned a _lot_ about privilege and the interactions of such in the past two-plus years, and he has exactly zero interest in comparing areas in which he and Nursey are alternately fortunate and not. Still, he figures that expressing appreciation is safe. “That’s awesome. I’m glad.”

Nursey grins. “Yeah.”

Jack’s condo isn’t far from the train station, and there must be a lot of parties in the building tonight because they have to crowd close in the elevator. “Over/under that Ransom and Tater are gonna hook up tonight?” Nursey asks.

Dex laughs. “I bet they’ll kiss at midnight.”

“Ten bucks says one of ‘em chickens out,” Nursey says, extending his hand, and Dex shakes it.

“Deal.”

Jack’s New Year’s party is a nice size—a couple dozen people, a mix of Falconers and SMH folks. Once the countdown starts, Dex finds himself in the living room, shoulder-to-shoulder in the crowd of people near the TV. He’s craning his head to try and spot Nursey—he could at least finagle a kiss on the cheek, right?—but no luck.

The blonde girl standing next to him, who Dex vaguely remembers as the sister of one of Jack’s teammates, leans over and plants a chaste, smacking kiss on his lips. “Happy New Year!”

“Happy New Year,” he echoes, clinking his beer bottle against her glass when she toasts him.

About 15 minutes after midnight, when Dex is chugging water in the kitchen, Nursey comes in and hops up onto the counter next to him, bumping his elbow against Dex’s shoulder.

“I missed midnight.”

Dex refills his glass and snorts. “How the fuck did you _miss_ midnight?”

“I have no idea. But Shitty kissed me. There was tongue,” he says, frowning, and Dex laughs.

“I got a random girl. No tongue, though.”

Nursey swipes the glass out of his hand and downs it in two gulps. “Thanks.” Dex rolls his eyes and fills it again.

“Did you rabbit rabbit?”

Nursey’s eyebrows lift. “Uh, what?”

“You have to say _rabbit, rabbit, rabbit_ as the first words of every month,” Dex explains, “otherwise you’ll have bad luck. Counts extra on New Year’s.”

“Is that a Maine thing?”

“I have no idea,” Dex admits. “I’ve been doing it since I was a kid, it’s superstition now.”

“Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit,” he says obediently. “Does that count?”

“Probably not. Your year’s gonna be shit,” Dex says gravely, and Nursey laughs, dropping his head. “Oh, and you owe me 10 bucks.”

“No shit, really?”

“It was a kiss on the cheek,” Dex admits, and Nursey rolls his eyes.

“Five, then,” he counters.

“Fine.”

The party winds down pretty quickly after that, with the locals heading home and the out-of-towners retreating to their respective sleeping locations—Nursey and Dex were promised the living room.

Jack’s couch is huge, a sectional that’s probably big enough for both of them to lay out fully without touching each other, but once they flip the TV to hockey highlights, Nursey falls asleep almost immediately with his head next to Dex’s hip. He sighs and tries not to move. This is fine.

He’s fine.

* * *

**_A match made in heaven_ **

**_By: Kathleen Morris_ **

**_Sports Editor, The Daily_ **

_Samwell is no stranger to successful hockey teams since the arrival five years ago of current Providence Falconers star Jack Zimmermann ‘15, but this season is already shaping up to be something special. The Wellies are 13-2 at the beginning of 2017, due in large part to their seemingly-flawless pair of defensemen, juniors Derek Nurse and Will Poindexter. They are the “first line” this season—hockey speak for the defensive pair who starts the game and plays the most minutes—and so far, it certainly seems like a prudent decision for Coach Hall and the rest of his staff._

_I meet them at the hockey house on campus, colloquially known as the “Haus” and where Nurse and Poindexter share a room. Some aspects of the house are stereotypical—the stale smell of beer, a hoard of large hockey teammates loudly playing a video game on a dubious-looking couch—but there’s also a group huddled in the kitchen, washing dishes after what can only be assumed to be a baking marathon._

_I can’t help wondering if it’s all in effort to butter me up (pun intended), but Poindexter assures me that it’s not. “If we wanted to do that, we would have asked you beforehand what your favorite dessert is.”_

_(There’s no lemon meringue, true, but the slice of apple pie that I settle for is delicious. Nurse favors pecan pie, while Poindexter goes for anything chocolate, in case you’re curious.)_

_They’re a matched pair, physically—both 6’2” and 200 pounds, plenty big enough for the imposing presence required for defensive players. They have a long-running arm-wrestling battle going on, which they both claim to be leading._

_Poindexter started playing hockey on local frozen-over ponds in Maine—“I was on skates by age three, easy”—while Nurse didn’t pick up the sport until his freshman year at Andover. He knew early on that he wanted to play at Samwell, but Poindexter solicited scholarship offers from several hockey programs and had a tougher decision to make._

_“Samwell appealed to me for a variety of reasons,” he says. “I knew the hockey program was improving because Jack [Zimmermann] was here, obviously, and it’s academically rigorous.”_

_They both have time-consuming majors, Nurse in English and Poindexter in Computer Science, and were both named to the ECAC Hockey All-Academic team in each of the previous two years. They can often be found doing readings on the bus to away games or fitting in homework at any free moment._

_“Our lives are pretty boring, honestly,” Nurse says. “Practice, class, more practice, homework. That’s pretty much it.”_

_“Boring” as though it may be, the success of Samwell hockey this year is by all accounts driven by their special style of play, in which the whole is greater than the sum of its parts._

_Senior captain Eric Bittle, who has up until now been manning the oven, chimes in. “[Nurse and Poindexter] are each, on their own, very good hockey players. But when they’re on the ice together, they’re pretty much unstoppable.”_

_I ask if they’ve always lived together, and everyone laughs._

_“No,” Nurse says. “We really didn’t like each other for a while.”_

_“I’m glad we weren’t roommates before,” Poindexter says. “We probably would have killed each other.”_

_When I ask what’s changed, Poindexter just shrugs. “Eighteen-year-olds are pretty dumb. That’s what college is about, right? Expanding your horizons, learning how to better get along with people who are different from you.”_

_“We’ve definitely matured,” Nurse agrees. “We understand each other now in a way that we just didn’t before._

_In fact, they didn’t even become roommates by choice. (It’s a complicated story involving a coin flip and what junior goaltender Chris Chow, also a crucial component to Samwell’s success, calls “a magic quarter.”) “But now,” Poindexter says, “we’re definitely glad that it happened.”_

_“Even when they didn’t like each other very much,” Chow says, “it didn’t affect their play on the ice, they were still so good. But it’s so much more fun now that they actually get along.”_

_Though it certainly seems as if their relationship has progressed beyond just “getting along.” The two regularly finish each other’s sentences and are clearly very comfortable in each other’s physical space—surely a byproduct of their time together on the ice and in the small room that they share._

_When I bring up the adage of an old married couple, they roll their eyes in unison. Everyone else laughs._

_“I can see it,” says Bittle, whose room is across the hall from Nurse and Poindexter’s. “Pretty common to hear them arguing, then two minutes later they’re thick as thieves again.”_

_Do they think that living together helps their game? Nurse says yes._

_“For sure. We always knew each other on the ice, in that weird magical way, and now we know each other off the ice, too.”_

_There’s a lot of talk among the team about the aforementioned “magic,” and I ask for details._

_“I can’t even really explain it,” Poindexter says. “I just instinctively know where he is and where he’s going to go and what he’s going to do. I couldn’t even put it into words, my body just knows and then responds accordingly. And he says it’s the same with me.”_

_“It was like that from the beginning,” Nurse chimes in, “and it’s only gotten better.”_

_“We’ve tested to see if they have actual psychic abilities,” Chow says, and they all laugh. “But unfortunately, it seems that the answer is no.”_

* * *

**Nursey:** You know we LIVE in the Haus, right?  
  
**Nursey:** There are no dibs, you don’t have to shovel snow anymore.  
  
**Dex:** Excuse me for wanting to make sure no one slips and dies on an icy sidewalk  
  
**Nursey:** I'm so touched  
  
**Dex:** I’d rather not have to break in another dman, you know? It’s so much effort  
  
**Dex:** Where are you spying on me from, anyway?  
  
**Nursey:** C's window  
  
**Nursey:** We're ogling. Can you take off your shirt?

* * *

By the time Dex sees him coming, there’s nothing he can do about it.

Princeton’s number 29 is huge, bigger than Dex, and since Dex is already off-balance by the time he spots him in the corner of his eye, he just braces himself as best he can before getting absolutely crushed against the boards.

The play keeps going, so he skates forward on autopilot, waiting for the pain in his ribs to dial down from gut-wrenchingly horrific to just excruciating. Dex grits his teeth for the next 45 seconds, just about the longest of his life, until there’s finally a shift change. Nursey blocks him from view from the rest of the bench and surreptitiously helps him over the boards.

“You need to come out?” Nursey asks lowly, and Dex shakes his head.

“I just need a minute. I can do another shift.”

He’s not sure he can do _more_ than one, but he doesn’t say that. The game’s almost over, anyway, and they’re up by two.

They get called to go out again after what feels like maybe 30 seconds, and Nursey knocks their sticks together. “I’ll try to keep them away from you, okay?” he says, and Dex nods.

He does a pretty good job of it, too, taking on the lion’s share of the work for their last shift and even getting in a nasty shove toward fucking number 29. Dex is only operating at about 50% capacity, he would guess, but the Princeton offense is clearly tired and doesn’t put up too much of a fight.

He exhales in relief when the buzzer finally sounds, tipping forward to brace his hands on his knees. Nursey’s hand lands on his back, between his shoulder blades, and he guides him off the ice.

Dex waves off everyone’s questions, claiming that he’s fine, and walks as fast as he can—which, it turns out, is very slow—toward his locker. He collapses with a wince and manages to get his skates off before he has to take a break, breathing hard.

“Poindexter.”

_Shit_. It’s their trainer—she’s five feet tall, with short purple-streaked hair, and is by far the most feared member of the staff. “Hi, Janet.” He forces a smile. “I’m fine.”

She snorts. “If you can stand up right now with a straight face, then I’ll believe you.”

Well, fuck.

Janet beckons him forward, and Dex sighs as he stands. “They’re not broken,” he protests fruitlessly, following her toward the training room. “I’ve cracked a rib before.”

“Well then this won’t take long. Come on.”

Dex passes Nursey in the hallway, and he pokes him in the shoulder. “Did you tell on me?”

“Yep,” Nursey says cheerfully, and he just grins when Dex glares at him.

“Do you need help getting your pads off?” Janet asks, once they’re inside, and he only hesitates for a second before nodding.

It hurts like a _bitch_ , and he’s sweating all over again by the time he’s sitting shirtless at the edge of the table.

“Don’t do the stoic thing, okay? Tell me when it hurts.”

“No promises,” he says, trying to get her to crack a smile, and it works.

She makes him twist and bend and cough and do all sorts of other terrible things, and it takes all of Dex’s energy just to keep the expletives _inside_ his head. Mostly.

Janet finally lets him go, with strict instructions to rest as much as possible over the weekend, and by then the locker room is mostly empty. He showers and redresses carefully, even though everything takes twice as long because he keeps stopping to breathe and wait for the pain to recede.

By the time everything is done, Dex is grumpy and hungry and exhausted. Not to mention in pain. He leaves Faber, the door banging behind him, and nearly trips over Nursey.

“Hey,” he says, surprised, and Nursey’s head snaps up. He scrambles to his feet and stuffs his phone back in his pocket.

“Hey. What’s the damage?”

“Couple of bruised ribs.” Dex’s hand drifts unconsciously to his side, and Nursey grimaces. “I shouldn’t miss a game, as long as I take it easy this weekend.”

“Fuck, man. How bad does it hurt?”

“Bad enough that I’m praying for that ibuprofen to kick in.”

“You want, like, a Lyft or anything?” Nursey’s hand drifts toward his pocket, but Dex shakes his head.

“It’s not that far, I can walk.”

“Okay. At least give me this, then.” Nursey gently takes Dex’s bag from him, slinging it over his own shoulder. They start off in the direction of the Haus, slowly, and Dex feels awkward.

“You don’t have to, like, walk with me or anything.”

Nursey shrugs. “Nah, it’s fine. You know how much I like to, you know, smell the flowers and shit anyway.”

Dex snorts and immediately regrets it. “Fuck you, don’t make me laugh.”

“A-ha, you finally admit that I’m funny!”

Dex shakes his head, though he’s smiling. “I admit nothing.”

Dex can’t walk very fast, at least not without sharp pains shooting through his chest, but Nursey keeps pace with him. “Thanks for waiting for me,” he says finally, more to break the silence than anything, and Nursey grins at him.

“Course, dude. D-men forever, right?”

Dex huffs a laugh and bumps Nursey’s proffered fist. “Right.”

The Haus has never seemed so far from Faber, and the challenges don’t end there, when Dex remembers that he lives on the _second_ floor. He sighs and looks at the stairs with a mixture of contempt and fear.

“You want help?” Nursey asks, looking over his shoulder with one foot already on the first step.

Dex shakes his head. He’s planning to just hang onto the banister and grit his teeth, and he’d really prefer to do that alone.

He’s sweating a little from the effort by the time he finally makes it to their room, and he has to stop and rest against the door frame. Nursey’s bent over his bed, and when he catches sight of Dex, he straightens and gestures gallantly. The bed is topped with every pillow they own—and probably some of Bitty’s and/or Chowder’s—designed in a way to support Dex as he sits up. It is the most beautiful sight Dex thinks he’s ever seen.

“I love you,” he says honestly— _too_ honestly—but Nursey just laughs.

“Awesome. You hungry?”

“Uh, yeah. Is there anything leftover the kitchen?”

Dex usually tries to have a hearty, healthy dinner after games, but after the night he’s had he figures that he probably deserves a giant slice of pie. Or two.

But Nursey shakes his head. “I’m going to Chipotle.”

“Nursey, you don’t h—”

“I’m going to Chipotle,” he repeats, already halfway out the door. “I’m starving. You want your usual?”

“Okay!” Dex shouts after him, and he hears something affirmative in response before the front door slams.

Dex changes into sleep clothes, very carefully, and exhales a sigh of relief as he sinks down into his nest of pillows. The pain in his ribs has decreased to a dull throb, thanks to the ibuprofen, and he tries to stay as still as possible.

He has no idea how long Nursey’s gone because he’s half-asleep by the time the door to their room opens again. The paper bag dangling from Nursey’s hand smells amazing, and Dex’s stomach lets out an audible rumble, making Nursey’s eyebrows lift.

“Hungry?”

Dex rolls his eyes and reaches for the bag. “Yes. Please. Thank you.”

Unsurprisingly, Nursey crawls into bed next to him, with his burrito in one hand and his iPad in the other. “What do you wanna watch?”

“Nothing that will make me laugh or cry.”

“Um…Planet Earth?”

“Sure.”

It doesn’t exactly pass the no-laughter test because those flamingos are fucking hilarious, but all in all it’s not too bad. Dex feels better after he eats, and he’s warm and cozy enough that he nearly falls asleep again, at least until Nursey taps his foot against Dex’s. “Take a deep breath.”

He blinks his eyes open and groans. “God, how do you even know about that? Were you eavesdropping on me and Janet?”

“Uh, because I know that when you hurt your ribs, your lungs can get screwed up. Take a deep breath.”

“But it _hurts_.” He knows that he’s whining, but he also doesn’t really care.

“Well, I’m not dragging your ass to the ER when you get pneumonia, so take a deep breath.” Dex makes a face, and Nursey pouts a little. “C’mon. I got you Chipotle.”

“Are you gonna lord that over me forever?”

“Yep. Five years from now, and I’ll be like, hey, Dex, remember that one time I bought you dinner?”

“Good to know I can’t expect any other favors between now and then,” he says, and Nursey laughs.

“Not if you die from pneumonia, that’s for sure.”

“I’m not gonna get _pneumonia_ ,” he mutters, but he obeys with the grumpiest deep breath he’s ever taken. It hurts exactly as much as he thought it would, and even the satisfaction of being right doesn’t make him feel any better.

* * *

**Dex:** Where's my green flannel?  
  
**Nursey:** I’m definitely NOT wearing it right now, if that’s what you’re insinuating.  
  
**Dex:**...  
  
**Nursey:** It was the first thing I grabbed in the closet!!!  
  
**Dex:** Yeah, I don't believe you.  
  
**Dex:** Just don't try to sneak it into my laundry basket again. I'm onto you.  
  
**Nursey:** But it's your shirt.  
  
**Dex:** Yeah, but you wore it last, so you have to wash it.  
  
**Dex:** You know the rules.  
  
**Nursey:** I still haven’t forgiven you for shrinking my purple sweater.  
  
**Dex:** How was I supposed to know it doesn’t go in the dryer???  
  
**Nursey:** THIS IS WHY WE SHOULD WASH OUR OWN CLOTHES

* * *

Something is happening.

Dex isn’t sure what _it_ is, exactly, but something’s changing. Between him and Nursey, that is.

He and Nursey spent a lot of time together last semester, he thought, but now…hell, they’re practically attached at the hip. Not that Dex is complaining, not at all, even though the constant proximity makes it basically impossible to get over his crush.

And he means _literal_ proximity, unfortunately. (Fortunately? He has no idea.) Nursey’s gotten handsy, which is slowly driving Dex insane. A casual arm around his shoulders while they’re walking to class, a leg thrown over his when they’re on the couch, knees knocking at the kitchen table, thighs pressed together on the bus. Dex has never been one for too much physical affection, but his normal boundaries are quickly evaporating.

Nursey has also taken to napping in Dex’s bed, whether Dex is there or not. Sometimes Dex gets back from class and Nursey is there, sprawled out on his stomach with one shoe still on, as if he lost his motivation before he could fully undress or move up to his own bed. Or Dex will be doing homework at night in bed, trying to stay awake, when Nursey will nudge him over and start watching something on his iPad.

All in all, disconcerting.

Finally, one afternoon, Dex reaches the end of his rope. He comes home from class to find Nursey in his bed, wearing sweatpants— _sweatpants_ —and reading a creased, well-worn paperback. Dex makes a token protest about needing to work on a problem set, but Nursey just scoots closer to the wall and dangles the tempting carrot of Brooklyn 99. And like always, Dex caves.

After two episodes, Dex is done. He’s exhausted, from practice and homework and stress and also from constantly trying to decipher whatever the _fuck_ is going on between him and Nursey. If anything.

Their shoulders are pressed together at the moment, a necessary evil considering how narrow the beds are, and Dex leans into the contact. “Nursey,” he whispers, keeping his focus on the screen. “What’re we doing?”

Silence.

Dex screams a little inside his head and refrains from repeating himself. Maybe Nursey’s thinking about it. Maybe Nursey is as confused as he is.

But thirty seconds is long enough, right?

Dex rolls his head along the pillow to look at him, then sighs.

Nursey is fast asleep, his mouth open a little bit, his lashes casting faint shadows over his cheeks in the eerie glow of the screen.

Fuck everything.

* * *

Dex winds his way through the library, trying not to think too hard about the fact that he knows exactly where Nursey’s favorite table is.

He’s there, of course, because he has a paper due in about six hours, and Dex slides into the seat across from him. “Hey. How’s the paper going?”

“Hey,” Nursey says, his face brightening a bit as he looks up. His eyes are droopy from the lack of sleep, his clothes rumpled, and he still looks hot, that bastard. “It’s okay. I think.”

Dex nods and slides the coffee cup in his hand across the table. Nursey’s eyebrows shoot up. “What the hell is this?”

Dex shrugs. “You get a headache if you don’t have caffeine in the morning, and when you have a paper due you tend to forget.”

Nursey squints at it. “Did you spit in it?”

“Did I—are you serious?” Dex moves to take the cup back, but Nursey snatches it away before he can get close.

“I’m just kidding. Thank you. Seriously.”

“You’re welcome,” he says, avoiding Nursey’s gaze as he gets his laptop out of his backpack.

Dex spends a good 30 minutes decidedly _not_ working on his problem set and instead mulling over what he wants to say. He’s finally decided that he has to do _something_ about this, about whatever weird thing is going on between them, before this uncertainty eats him alive, but he’s not certain how to approach it.

Finally, he just kicks Nursey’s foot under the table.

“What?” Nursey whispers, and Dex scratches at his temple. He doesn’t look at Nursey, just keeps his eyes on his textbook.

“Just…don’t make plans for your birthday, okay?”

There’s no response, and when Dex finally looks up, Nursey’s head is tilted, his eyes soft. “Okay,” he says. It sounds a little wary, maybe, but perhaps Dex is just imagining things.

* * *

It’s Nursey’s birthday— _Valentine’s Day_ , Jesus Christ—and Dex is…not great. After going for a too-fast run that does basically nothing to ease his anxiety, he participates in the Haus tradition of birthday pancakes but then escapes to the library, way too nervous to actually face Nursey and deal with the possibility of talking to him about what they’re doing tonight.

But Dex can’t hide out forever, and when he finally slinks back to the Haus, Nursey promptly corners him on the stairs. “So…any deets?” He folds his arms across his chest and leans his shoulder against the wall. “Don’t make me stress about what to wear.”

He’s smiling, and Dex huffs a laugh. “Wear something warm.” He meets Nursey’s gaze for a second and then lets his eyes skitter away. “Not fancy. Be ready to leave in a couple hours.”

Nursey nods. He looks like he’s going to make some sort of physical contact, but then his hand hovers awkwardly in the air, as if he changed his mind. Dex takes pity on him and continues up the stairs, increasing the space between them.

Dex runs a few errands and pulls back into the Haus driveway exactly two hours after he and Nursey spoke. Nursey’s waiting on the porch, and he strolls over as soon as Dex rolls to a stop.

“So where’re we going?” Nursey looks around, as if there’s anything to be gleaned from leaving the Samwell campus.

“It’s a _surprise_ ,” Dex says, just to be a dick, and Nursey laughs.

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

Nursey doesn’t seem very bothered by the whole thing, though, as he slumps down in the passenger seat and starts fiddling with the radio. Dex doesn’t complain about his station choice, for once—he’s too busy enjoying the curl of warmth spreading through his chest at the sight of Nursey so comfortable, trusting him to go wherever.

It’s about an hour drive to the outskirts of Cape Cod, via the directions that Dex has carefully memorized, and when he pulls off onto a dirt road, Nursey cranes his neck and squints to read the sign.

“We’re—this is a campsite.”

Dex takes a careful breath and keeps his gaze fixed firmly out the windshield. “You said you’ve always wanted to go camping.”

Nursey lets out a short laugh, but when Dex dares a glance over to him, he’s looking out the window with his bottom lip caught between his teeth, a tiny smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

Dex hops out of the car at the entrance to check in, and Nursey just raises his eyebrows when Dex dumps armfuls of firewood in the trunk. They keep driving, farther into the state forest, until Dex pulls into their little campsite.

Nursey laughs and leans forward to peer through the windshield. “Holy shit, is that a _yurt_?”

Dex bites back a smile. “I figured it would appeal to your hipster tendencies. Better for winter camping, anyway.”

“Wow. This is actually the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m glad,” Dex says. He turns the car off and unbuckles his seat belt, but Nursey reaches out for him before he can get out of the car.

“Dex.”

“Yeah?” he asks, trying and probably failing to sound cool and unaffected as he stares down at Nursey’s broad hand on his arm.

“Why are we here?”

Oh, god.

Nursey is staring at him, his eyes wide and serious, and Dex bites his lip. This feels important. Was this whole thing a terrible idea? “Because it’s, uh, your birthday, and I want you to be happy.”

Kind of plain, not very flowery, but it’s honest. Dex is a nutshell, basically.

Nursey hasn’t reacted in any way that Dex can see, so he gently slides his arm out from underneath Nursey’s hand and gets out of the car. He grabs a grocery bag from the backseat, and when he turns around, Nursey is _right there_. Dex fumbles to close the door behind him, but there’s not a lot of room with the way Nursey’s caging him in.

“Hi,” he says dumbly, and Nursey smiles at him.

“This is unlike any other first date I’ve been on.”

Dex is probably going to pass out.

Nursey in such close proximity would probably do it, let alone the words that are coming out of his mouth. “A date?” he chokes out. He _intended_ this to be a date…like thing, sure, but he wasn’t expecting it to be so obvious right away. Maybe he’s just an idiot.

“This, uh…that’s what this is, right? Like, a declaration of intent thing?”

“A declaration of intent?” Dex repeats, hoarse. He’s not making the best impression here.

Nursey peers into the paper bag that’s still clutched against Dex’s chest. “You bought me marshmallows.”

Dex swallows. “You said you wanted s’mores.”

“Yeah.” Nursey’s face slowly splits into a broad smile, and Dex mirrors him. He doubts he looks as attractive, though. “Yeah, I did.”

Somehow, Nursey moves even closer, until Dex’s back hits the car door. He freezes. “What are you doing?”

“What does it _look_ like I’m doing? I’m gonna kiss you now, k?”

“ _K_ ,” he mocks, but turns out it’s hard to chirp effectively when Dex feels like his heart is about to beat straight out of his chest.

Nursey’s laughing a little when their lips finally press together, and it’s so different from the way Dex had imagined it before—hard and anger-fueled, usually—that it takes him an extra second to respond. This is _so_ much better, though, soft and kind of surprisingly chaste, and Dex’s eyes fall shut.

Nursey’s thumb is cold when it comes up to touch his jaw, and Dex promptly lets the bag drop. Nursey nudges it to the side with his foot, out of the way, and as they crash together, the kiss deepens. Dex’s fingers curl into the tops of Nursey’s pockets, bracing himself as they push and pull against each other. The car door is cold against Dex’s back, but his front is feverishly warm, pressed against Nursey from shoulders to knees.

They’re both panting by the time they pull apart, their breaths rushing out in sharp white puffs between them. Dex just freezes, his tongue unconsciously swiping at his lower lip while he stares at Nursey. Unsurprisingly, freshly-kissed is a good look on him—his mouth red and wet, his pupils blown.

Nursey groans a little under the scrutiny and dips in for another kiss—this one short, hard, and no less devastating—and then pulls back just far enough to lean his forehead against Dex’s. “Oh my god, we can have sex in a _yurt_ , that’s so cool.”

Dex snorts and tries to remember how words work. “Is that a square on your hipster bingo card?”

Nursey smirks at him, his eyebrow cocked, and quickly sneaks his hand under Dex’s layers to press against his side, right under his ribs. It’s ice-cold against his bare skin, and Dex yelps as he squirms away.

“Jesus Christ. Please tell me you brought gloves.”

“I most definitely did not. You were a little stingy with the details, after all.”

“I said dress warm,” Dex mutters, but he digs his own gloves out of his coat pockets and grabs Nursey’s wrists to put them on his hands. “I think I have an old pair in the car somewhere. You aren’t too cold, are you?”

Nursey shakes his head. “I’m fine. And you’re gonna make a fire, right?”

“Yeah. I have blankets, too.”

“Please tell me you also brought hot dogs.”

“Of course I did. Now make yourself useful and help unload the car.”

Nursey grins, slow, and leans into Dex, even slower. Their hips are flush, and Dex doesn’t wait for Nursey to lean in all the way before he lunges forward. Now that he’s _actually kissed Nursey_ , he has no idea how he’s supposed to stop.

“Or this,” Dex mumbles, into the kiss. “This is fine.”

Nursey bites his lip, just barely enough to sting, and pulls back. “I was promised s’mores.”

“Okay, okay. Hot dogs first, c’mon.”

They manage to untangle themselves from each other, somehow, and Nursey unloads the car while Dex studies the fire pit. He kneels down and carefully arranges the kindling and the firewood. He can feel Nursey’s gaze on him, and when he twists around, Nursey’s head is tilted, still shamelessly staring at Dex’s ass. “What?” Dex asks.

“You’re wearing flannel and building a fire. I feel like I’m in an LLBean catalog.”

Dex looks down. “I think these boots are from LLBean, actually. If that makes you feel better.”

Nursey laughs, and Dex turns back to the fire. He lights the bottom with a match and nods, satisfied, as the flames catch.

“Fire!” Nursey says, clearly delighted. “I’m evolutionarily pleased.”

“Oh, good,” Dex says dryly. “That was the whole goal here.”

“You’re such a good provider,” Nursey says, mock-serious, and Dex rolls his eyes.

The fire is still building, but it’s already throwing off enticing warmth. They lucked out with the weather, actually—it’s cold but not bitterly so, not like it usually is in mid-February, and it hasn’t snowed in several weeks—but they still crowd close to the fire, spread out on a blanket.

After two hot dogs each, Dex reaches over for one of the paper bags. He finds the box of graham crackers and opens it. “So you’ve really never had a s’more.”

“Never ever,” Nursey says as he leans heavily into Dex’s shoulder to poke through the bag. He finds the package of marshmallows and rips it open, then pops one into his mouth.

“You know you’re supposed to roast them first, right?” Nursey responds to that by giving Dex a clear view of half-chewed marshmallow, and he winces. “Gross.”

“Stick, please.”

Dex sticks a marshmallow on the end before handing it over, and then Nursey thrusts it right into the flames. “Wait, don’t just—”

Nursey triumphantly pulls the stick back, now with a flaming marshmallow stuck on the end, and Dex sighs. He leans forward and blows it out.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” Nursey says.

“Well, you can have that one then. I don’t like them burnt.”

Dex helpfully holds out two graham cracker squares and a piece of chocolate, sandwiching them over Nursey’s marshmallow to tug it off the stick. He hands it off, and Nursey stuffs nearly the whole thing into his mouth. “That’s pretty good,” Nursey mumbles, without bothering to finish chewing.

“Give me that stick back, I clearly need to show you how to properly roast a marshmallow.”

Dex reloads the stick and rotates it slowly over the coals, until the marshmallow is a perfect golden brown, just touching black in a couple of spots. He carefully makes the s’more and after taking the first bite, holds the rest out to Nursey. He leans forward and eats it off his fingers, scraping his teeth across Dex’s thumb for good measure. Nursey makes a noise, some sort of low moan that Dex wants to hear again and again, and he swallows.

“Better, right?”

“Nah, I like them burnt,” Nursey says, grinning, and Dex sighs.

“You weirdo.”

He kisses him, though, because he _can_ , and Nursey leans into it with a happy little hum. It’s sticky from the marshmallows, sweet from the chocolate, and Dex is pretty sure he’ll never be able to get a whiff of campfire smoke ever again without thinking about this.

They eat their weight in s’mores and continue sitting by the fire as it burns down. Nursey has one leg thrown nonchalantly over Dex’s, the exact kind of casual touch that would have driven Dex insane only yesterday. But now he can enjoy it, can feel comfortable under Nursey’s weight and lean his shoulder against him in return.

“This is cheesy as fuck,” Nursey declares, looking around. Dex tenses and shifts his weight away. He _knew_ it, this was a dumb idea, he should have—but Nursey breaks his negative thought spiral by tugging at his arm. “And I _love_ it. Best birthday ever.”

Dex’s shoulders relax. “Really? Best birthday ever?”

“Yeah, 21 is looking pretty good for me so far.”

“And you haven’t even gotten _laid_ yet.”

“Well, those s’mores were pretty good.” Nursey takes his hand and smirks. “So you have a lot to live up to.”

“No pressure,” he mutters under his breath.

“My butt is asleep,” Nursey announces a few minutes later, and Dex snorts. He stands, after disentangling himself from Nursey, and holds his hand out.

“You wanna go inside?”

Nursey takes his hand and lets himself be hauled up, losing his balance a little and falling against Dex’s chest. Dex holds him there and kisses him

Dex douses the fire with water and covers it with dirt, watching it carefully to make sure all the embers are out. When he’s satisfied that they aren’t going to accidentally burn the whole forest down, he follows Nursey into the yurt. The structure is small and bare-bones, basically just a tiny room with a bed and a couple of chairs.

“This is super cool,” Nursey says, his head tipped back as he looks at the vaulted ceiling. “And I’m all for body heat and cuddling for warmth and stuff, but does this place have any heat?”

“This is a wood stove,” Dex says as he drops an armful of logs next to it. “This space is so small, it should keep it plenty warm.”

“And that can go all night?”

“Yep.”

Once the fire is going, Dex feels awkward. He doesn’t want to just _jump_ Nursey—well, he does, he always does, but that doesn’t seem…appropriate right now, for some reason. He digs through the bag he brought and holds up Nursey’s iPad. “You wanna watch more Brooklyn 99?”

“Is that mine?”

Dex nods. “Stole it this morning and downloaded a few more episodes.”

“Sneaky, I approve.” Nursey grins. “And yes, that sounds great.”

The wooden bed frame has just a thin mattress, so Dex spreads one blanket on top of it, tosses another at the foot of the bed, and tosses down two pillows.

“Wow. You really came prepared.”

“Shut up,” Dex says, his face flushing, but Nursey’s smiling.

It’s warm enough already that they both shed their jackets before climbing in bed. Nursey lies back, balances the iPad on his chest, and curls one arm around Dex’s shoulder to haul him closer.

Dex is still a little bit in shock over this whole casual-touching-is-okay thing, so it takes him about 10 minutes to feel comfortable enough to throw a leg over Nursey’s. Five more minutes, and he rucks Nursey’s shirt up enough to rest a hand on his stomach. Nursey shivers a little—his hand must be cold—but doesn’t ask him to move it.

After three episodes, Nursey flips the iPad shut and leans over to carefully set it on the floor. When he straightens up, he turns on his side to face Dex. “So…you said something about sex in a yurt?”

Dex starts to bite back his grin before realizing that he probably doesn’t have to do that anymore. “I believe that was you, actually.”

Nursey nods. “That makes sense, I am the one with all the good ideas around here.”

Dex refrains from responding to that in favor of lunging forward. They haven’t kissed in like, over an hour, and he would feel a little embarrassed about the sheer _depth_ of his want if Nursey weren’t plastered against him, kissing him feverishly and clutching at his back with what seems like the exact same fervor that Dex feels.

Tracing the edge of Nursey’s stubble with his tongue. Nursey arches up with a hiss as he tilts his head back. “You know, if you don’t, uh, we don’t—”

Dex gets what he’s trying to say, and he pulls back just far enough to see his face. “I want to. If you do.”

“Fuck yes,” he breathes, then curls his hand around the back of Dex’s neck to tug him down again. “Take off your clothes.”

“How romantic,” he drawls, even as he shifts his weight and reaches down with one hand to undo his jeans.

With an eyebrow cocked, Nursey slides his hand up into Dex’s hair and tugs a little. It’s meant to be playful, he can tell, but Dex gasps just the same, an involuntary shiver making its way down his body. Nursey’s eyes light up, and he promptly does it again. Dex groans and lets his eyes fall shut.

“Oh, that’s fun.”

“Shut up,” Dex mutters, his face flushed.

“Oh, no, now I think I can get _you_ to shut up anytime I want. I just have to pull your hair.”

Dex groans again, half in embarrassment and half in anticipation, and leans down for another kiss, to keep from saying anything else mortifying. When he shifts his hand from his own jeans to Nursey’s and squeezes his groin, Nursey grunts, a delightful low noise that sounds punched out from his gut. “Fuck.”

Dex grins and lets his lips brush Nursey’s ear. “Whatever it is that makes you do that, I’ll find it. I promise.”

Nursey laughs, though it’s hoarse, and pushes his hips up into Dex’s hand. “That’ll be easy. All you have to do is touch me with those fucking hands.”

“My _hands_?”

“Don’t tell me that you don’t know what your hands do to me.”

“I don’t know what my hands do to you,” Dex says honestly, and Nursey laughs, his eyes squeezing shut. “How the hell would I even know that?”

Nursey ignores him in favor of tugging ineffectually at his shirt, bypassing his button-down and yanking at his undershirt. “God, why are you wearing so many _layers_.”

“It’s how you…” Dex sits back and fumbles with his shirt buttons, his hands shaking a little from the adrenaline. Were these damn buttons always so small? “How you keep warm, fuck.”

Nursey’s wearing a henley, and Dex pushes it up to his chest, admiring the clench of his abs as he sits up just enough to yank it off his head.

“You’re staring.”

Dex’s eyes snap back to his face, where Nursey’s smirking at him, nearly as loose and relaxed as Dex has ever seen him.

“So?” he asks, and Nursey laughs.

“Good point. C’mere.”

Dex manages to shed his shirt and push his jeans down to his knees before Nursey forcibly tugs him down, until they’re firmly pressed together, and _yep_ , that’s Nursey’s dick, right against his. Even through fabric it’s torturously good, and Nursey groans when Dex grinds down.

One of Nursey’s hands is tight on Dex’s thigh, fingers digging in as he uses the grip for leverage, while the other roams, curving around Dex’s ribs and spreading over his back and tucking under the waistband of his boxers.

Then they’re kissing again, messy and desperate and uncoordinated, and this is by far the best fucking thing Dex has ever done. He would really like to _touch_ Nursey’s dick, or see it, at the very least, but he can’t exactly make himself move away from this delicious friction at the moment. Their movements are graceless, bordering on frantic, and while Dex would really rather not come in his boxers, that’s the way this is heading, fast.

Nursey rips his mouth away and pants heavy in Dex’s ear before trailing his lips down his neck. “Did you bring lube?” he murmurs.

Dex shakes his head and fists his hand in the blanket next to Nursey’s ear. “No, I did not—fuck, do that again— _bring lube_. I thought this whole trip was, shit, was already presumptuous enough.”

Nursey laughs and sucks harder on Dex’s neck, probably leaving a little mark that’ll be a bitch to hide. “I don’t think you would have jinxed it.”

“You don’t know that,” he bites out. He’s unraveling, and in a poor attempt to focus on anything besides the fact that he’s about to come, he worms a hand in between their bodies and scrabbles at Nursey’s pants, practically ripping them open and palming at Nursey’s briefs.

Nursey arches up with a gasp, nearly dislodging Dex on top of him. “Shit. C’mon, pants off.”

Dex makes a displeased noise—moving is not high on the list of things that he wants to do right now—and squeezes Nursey again, firmer this time. He’s warm even through the cotton, practically throbbing in Dex’s hand, and Dex strokes him with his thumb while shamelessly rutting against Nursey’s thigh.

Nursey’s thumb brushes against Dex’s cheekbone, gentle, before his hand slides into Dex’s hair and tugs sharply. “Aw, fuck,” Dex says with a hiss, shuddering. “You—”

“This is my new favorite thing,” Nursey declares as he takes advantage of Dex’s daze to wrap his arms around his waist and dump him onto his side. “I’m gonna do that all the time.”

Dex groans and lifts his hips, letting Nursey strip his jeans off. “Then you’re gonna have to deal with me being hard all the time.”

“What a hardship. Get it? What a—”

Dex cuts him off with a kiss, his own technique that he’s looking forward to using in the future. “Take off your pants,” he says, once he’s convinced that he’s sufficiently distracted Nursey from any more erection-related puns.

Nursey pulls away with a laugh but obeys.

When they fall back together again, finally naked, something about the vibe changes. The touches get softer, the kisses more languid, and Dex no longer feels like he’s going to come at the slightest provocation. Then Nursey licks his hand and wraps it around both of them, and whatever Dex thought about _not_ being on the edge is now patently false.

Nursey whispers something under his breath, possibly a curse and/or Dex’s name, and Dex kisses him. It’s deep but soft, and slow, especially in comparison to the eager pace of Nursey’s hand. Dex tries to add his own hand to the effort, but it’s his left hand and somewhat clumsy anyway, so he settles for clutching at Nursey’s ass instead.

Nursey’s hand tightens, and Dex’s breath hitches. “Oh, fuck, c’mon, please.” Everything is torturously warm, from the fire at his back to Nursey’s legs tangled with his to the scorching press of Nursey’s dick against his. “I’m gonna—”

Nursey kisses him, capturing Dex’s low whine as he comes. He curls into Nursey even more, twitching, and Nursey kisses the breath out of him until he’s gasping all over again. He’s oversensitive now to all the pressure, but Nursey comes just a second later, his mouth open against Dex’s shoulder in a silent scream.

Nursey stills, his hand still curled loosely around them, and Dex echoes his pants, hot breath swirling between them. “Jesus,” Nursey whispers, and Dex snorts in agreement. He’s boneless and shivery and also can’t really feel his legs. _Jesus_ , indeed.

Finally they separate, and Nursey rolls onto his back with a groan. “Yeah, best birthday ever,” he says, still panting a little, and Dex feels weirdly proud.

“Better than the s’mores? Don’t answer that,” he adds quickly, and Nursey laughs.

“Obviously,” he drawls, one hand still strewn over Dex’s chest.

Dex rummages through the pile of clothes on the floor next to the bed and finds his undershirt, which will be serviceable enough for a perfunctory clean-up job. He wipes Nursey’s stomach and then his own. It’s warm enough now in the room that Dex doesn’t bother with any other clothes, but he does tug the extra blanket up over their hips.

Nursey pulls it up further to his shoulder and shivers a little. “Thank you,” he says quietly, and Dex turns toward him again.

“For what? The orgasm?”

Nursey laughs and tucks his forehead against the curve of Dex’s neck. “No. Well, yes, that too. Plus all of this.”

Dex blows out a silent breath. “You’re welcome.” He nudges at Nursey’s cheek with his nose until he shifts his face up for a kiss. “Happy birthday.”

Dex tries to relax, tries to distract himself by tracing patterns onto the skin of Nursey’s torso. But his mind is already whirring, and he stills his hand, spreading his fingers wide over Nursey’s ribs. “You don’t, uh, you don’t want anything casual, right?”

“No,” Nursey says immediately. “Do you?”

“I don’t think I can be casual about anything,” he says, painfully honest, and Nursey laughs.

“Thank fuck.”

It’s quiet again, until Nursey gets his attention with a gentle bite to the thin skin below Dex’s collarbone.

“When did you know?”

“What?”

“When did you know?” Nursey repeats, even lower, but he doesn’t elaborate. Dex swallows.

“My birthday.”

Nursey hums. Dex is kind of afraid to ask the reverse—he doesn’t even know what he wants Nursey to say.

But he makes himself do it anyway. “What about you?”

Nursey sighs and scrunches up his face. “Since I saw you kissing that guy at that party. I wanted to punch his fucking lights out, which was kind of a surprise.”

“Not very chill,” Dex agrees, and Nursey snorts.

“Not chill at all.”

* * *

Dex isn’t sure how to handle himself at practice.

His eyes keep darting to Nursey, keeping an eye on him more than usual, even, and as a result he’s missing shots and falling behind on plays and generally doing a shitty job. They get a little break, and Dex stretches his arms over his head, trying to calm down. Nursey skates in a wide circle around him, his back to the rest of the team, and mouths, _chill_.

Normally Nursey saying something like that would make him huff and frown, but Nursey’s mouth is turned up in a genuine half-grin, his eyes sparking, and so Dex practically melts into a pile of goo right there on the ice.

God, this is embarrassing.

They talked the morning after in the yurt—while eating cold, post-coital Pop-Tarts in bed—and decided that they didn’t want to tell the team just yet. The playoff race is heating up, and while they know it wouldn’t be a _distraction_ , so to speak, both of them selfishly don’t want to deal with that quite yet.

Which is fine, except it probably won’t stay a secret for long if Dex keeps making eyes at Nursey across the ice. The embarrassing, prideful part of him wants to skate in circles and scream “I had sex with _that guy_ and we’re _dating,_ ” but somehow, with great difficulty, he refrains.

Immediately after practice they get on the bus, heading to New York, and Dex takes his usual spot next to Nursey. He and Nursey have shared many quiet conversations on a dark bus, but it understandably feels different now.

“What?” Nursey whispers after a while, and Dex swallows. He wets his lips.

“What, what?”

“What’s that face, what’re you thinking?” Nursey asks, leaning closer under the guise of hearing better, probably. There’s something inherently intimate about whispering, even if it’s just to avoid waking the snoring goalie sitting behind them. And especially when Nursey is looking at him like that, like he’s remembering certain things that Dex shouldn’t be thinking about when he’s on a bus full of their teammates.

Dex flushes and looks away, but he’s evidently not quick enough because Nursey laughs under his breath.

“Nothing,” he says anyway, and Nursey’s hand drifts toward his thigh for a too-quick second. He squeezes once and then leans forward to rummage through his backpack.

“Wanna watch something?” he asks, and Dex considers it for about half a second. He has reading he should probably be doing, but fuck that. His studious nature falls to pieces, apparently, with just one of Nursey’s heavy-lidded looks.

He nods, and Nursey plugs his earbuds into his iPad before offering Dex one. There isn’t much room left between them, but Dex slides closer anyway, until they’re pressed together from shoulder to knee. Nursey presses back and even hooks one knee up so that it splays across Dex’s thigh.

It’s a torturous three hours.

* * *

They lose to Union, and it _sucks_. Every game matters at this point in the season, and none more than the conference matchups. Everyone played poorly—even _Chowder_ , who looks like he wants to die—and the mood is bleak while they wait in the hotel lobby for their room keys.

Dex is slumped against Nursey, their shoulders pressed together as much to hold each other up as it is to express affection. He spares a thankful thought for their tactile friendship because no one bats an eye.

“Nursey and Dex!” Ford calls out, breaking Dex from his reverie, and he stumbles when Nursey steps forward to take the key from her hand.

They take the elevator with several of the others to the third floor, and Dex follows him on autopilot down the hall toward their room.

“So that was awful,” Nursey says mildly, and Dex snorts.

“Yeah. Fuck.”

He drops his bag at the end of one of the beds and scrubs a hand through his still-damp hair. The visitors’ locker room was shitty, and they rinsed off so quickly that Dex doesn’t really feel clean.

“I’m gonna take a shower.”

“Is that an invitation?” Nursey asks, one eyebrow cocked, and Dex’s tiredness and irritation washes away with just one flash of that half-smile.

He’d like to think of something flirty to say back, but he’s running on empty on nearly all of his cylinders at the moment. “Yes. Please,” he says instead, and Nursey laughs before promptly yanking his shirt off.

Dex steps forward and touches him—because what else is he supposed to do, honestly—and presses their lips together. In his defense, it’s been several hours since they’ve been able to sneak a kiss.

“Shower,” Nursey mumbles against his mouth, and Dex pulls back, blinking.

“Right.”

Dex hasn’t ever showered with anyone before—outside of the locker room, that is, which _does not count_ —and it’s a little more logistically complicated than he had envisioned.

“Jesus _Christ_ ,” Dex complains. He steps back out of the spray with a wince. “That water is boiling.”

The shower is big but not _that_ big, and Nursey edges around him carefully to take his place under the showerhead. “It feels perfect, what are you talking about.”

“You weirdo,” Dex says, a little more fondly than he had intended.

They have to keep switching places and adjusting the water temperature, and it seems like someone is always cold and someone is always getting sprayed in the face. A soapy, sudsy Nursey is very nice, though, and they get a little distracted from the traditional shower activities.

The water feels like hot needles pounding against Dex’s back, but he ignores it in favor of pressing Nursey against the tile, their mouths working fiercely against each other. But once Dex slips for the second time, he reluctantly steps back.

“We can’t die like this,” Nursey declares, and Dex laughs.

“Or show up tomorrow morning with any suspicious injuries.”

They each rinse off one more time and clumsily pat each other down with towels before carefully climbing out of the shower.

Nursey’s still kissing him as they blindly stumble out of the bathroom and toward one of the beds, but Dex pulls away and swipes the remote off the dresser before sitting on the end of the bed.

“Really? TV? Right now?”

Nursey’s on his knees behind him, his hands on Dex’s shoulders. One slips down to his chest, thumbing over his nipple, and Dex flips channels frantically until he lands on SportsCenter. He turns the volume up a couple notches and then flings the remote away.

“I’m just, uh,” he says, turning around and tackling Nursey down onto the bed, “for the noise.”

Nursey hums happily and wraps an arm around his neck. “You’re so smart.”

Dex just pulls Nursey closer and maps out the muscles in his back. Nursey’s skin is still damp, and it feels like silk under his hands. They kiss lazily for a little while, rolling around in the sheets and indulging in the luxurious feeling of fooling around in a _queen_ bed after being stuck with just twin beds so far.

But Nursey is very naked, and very hard, and Dex would very much like to try something that he hasn’t exactly done before.

He gets Nursey onto his back, leans down, and before he can overthink it, licks at the head of his dick. Dex doesn’t exactly take Nursey’s throaty gasp as discouragement, so he does it again.

It takes him a minute to get the angle right, and it’s messier than he was expecting, but it’s also very, very good. Nursey’s hands find their way to his hair, holding on tight, and each tug makes Dex’s dick twitch. He tries to ignore it and focuses instead on Nursey, sucking a little harder and trying to get a good rhythm going with his hand.

The TV is helping, but Nursey’s noises are still just a little too loud, especially considering that there are teammates on either side of them.

After a very flattering groan that Dex will probably be replaying in his head for the rest of his life, Dex pulls back, wiping his mouth on his shoulder, and crawls up the length of Nursey’s body. “Shh,” he whispers, against his neck. “You gotta be quiet, babe.”

The _babe_ slips out mostly by accident, and Dex internally grimaces. But Nursey doesn’t seem too displeased by it, if the noise he makes is any indication, and he kisses him, hard.

Dex would kind of like to get back to what he was doing before, but when he tries to move, Nursey just holds him tighter, one arm locked around his back, and deepens the kiss even more. Instead, Dex worms a hand between their bodies and takes Nursey’s dick in his hand, immediately launching into a quick pace.

The blow job must not have been awful because Nursey comes almost immediately, curling up into Dex’s grip and crying out into his mouth. Dex kisses him through it, stroking him slower and lighter until Nursey tries to squirm his hips away.

“Jesus fuck,” he breathes, still panting, and Dex decides to take that as a good sign.

“That was hot,” he says plainly, and Nursey laughs.

“What do you want?”

Nursey’s voice is lazy, thick with pleasure, and Dex shivers. “I don’t know,” he says. Whatever it is, it isn’t going to last long. “Anything.”

Nursey laughs again and clutches at Dex’s bicep, which is quaking slightly with the effort of keeping his body propped up. “Can I watch you?”

“Watch me do what?”

“Watch you jerk off. And then come on me.”

Dex’s dick twitches against Nursey’s stomach, and they both look down at it.

“Can I take that as a yes?”

Dex makes a noise and kisses Nursey instead. He’s kind of addicted to it, to how soft Nursey’s lips are and how eager he is.

“Sit up,” Nursey says, pushing at his shoulders. “So I can see better.”

Dex licks his lips and settles on his knees. His hand is still wet from Nursey, and he swipes his fingers across Nursey’s stomach before curling them around his own dick. Between that and his own pre-come, it’s fine. It’s a little drier than he would prefer, but he’s so close that it isn’t really going to matter.

He doesn’t bother teasing himself, just settling into firm, steady strokes. This is a little embarrassing, jerking off under such intense scrutiny, but Nursey looks so fucking into it that Dex pushes the shame away.

Nursey’s gaze is heavy and hot, flitting around from Dex’s dick to his chest to his hands to his thighs. “Did you think about me? When you did this? Before?”

Dex flushes. “Yes,” he says anyway. “All the fucking time.”

Nursey groans and shifts under him, his abs flexing. Dex stares, shamelessly. “God, that’s so hot.”

“ _You’re_ so hot,” Dex says dumbly, but there isn’t a lot of blood in his brain right now.

“C’mon,” Nursey encourages. “Come on me, please.”

Nursey’s hand comes up to clutch at his thigh, high enough that his thumb brushes against Dex’s balls. Dex comes with a grunt and doubles over, catching his weight on his hand. He pants and lets his head hang, eyeing with shameful pride the streaks of come on Nursey’s stomach.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and Nursey laughs delightedly. He yanks Dex down flat against him and kisses him. Dex leans into it for a moment before pulling back and making a face. “Really? Now I’m all gross and sticky, too.”

“Payback.”

“You literally asked for it,” Dex points out.

“Yeah but now you’ll shower with me again,” Nursey says, and Dex presses a smile to his neck.

* * *

**Dex:** My class got cancelled  
  
**Dex:** I'm jerking off in your bed  
  
**Dex:** Just fyi  
  
**Nursey:** Wtf bro I am in class  
  
**Nursey:** Holy shit this is not helping me concentrate  
  
**Dex:** Please don't call me bro in this scenario  
  
**Nursey:** My bromosexual broski  
  
**Nursey:** My Bromeo!  
  
**Dex:** Ugh I'm not even hard anymore  
  
**Nursey:** We are so good at sexting

* * *

Samwell loses the ECAC championship to Harvard, in a hard-fought game that goes into overtime. They still make the tournament, though, and beat UMass Lowell handily in the first round. But then they run into Minnesota in the quarterfinals and miss out on the Frozen Four by one goddamn goal.

To add insult to injury, the bus gets a flat on the drive home. The team ends up sitting in a circle on the grass at a deserted rest stop, shivering in the cool, early spring air.

“For the love of _God_ , this is depressing,” Whiskey says, both hands covering his face. “There must be something good in the world. Someone, please, say something.”

No one immediately jumps in, so Dex swallows. “Nursey and I are dating.”

The circle falls silent, everyone looking up from their phones, and Dex can feel his cheeks heat. He doesn’t look over at Nursey, belatedly realizing that he probably should have asked him before he blurted out their little secret. Nursey just slides over, though, and drops his arm around Dex’s shoulders, easy as anything, pulling him closer like they’ve done a thousand times.

“I knew it!” Chowder shouts, which breaks the spell. Everyone starts talking over each other, and Dex slides even closer to Nursey. This is somewhat terrifying.

“Dude, how did you know?” Nursey asks, ignoring everyone else’s screeches to focus on Chowder, and he grins.

“Dex’s googly eyes.”

“I do _not_ have googly eyes,” he says hotly.

“Yes, you do,” Nursey and Chowder say in unison, and Dex groans.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“‘Cause it’s cute as fuck,” Nursey retorts. He leans in to plant a smacking kiss on his cheek, and Dex flushes.

“Ooh, Nursey has googly eyes, too,” Chowder says, and everyone laughs.

* * *

They throw an end-of-the-season kegster anyway, and everyone’s spirits start to lift after the keg gets tapped and the tub juice gets poured.

Dex is talking with Chowder, eagerly reliving some of their shutouts, when arms circle him from behind. He startles for half a second and then leans back, recognizing Nursey’s body behind him. Nursey kisses Dex’s neck, and Chowder yells _fine_ in their faces before wandering off toward Farmer to surely rack up more fines of his own.

Nursey plucks the red cup out of Dex’s hand and downs it. “Dance with me,” he says, his lips brushing the edge of Dex’s ear. Dex winces.

“I really can’t dance.”

“Then make out with me in the middle of the room, under the guise of dancing.”

Dex considers it for about half a second. “I think I can do that.”

Nursey laughs and slides his hand down Dex’s arm to tangle their fingers together. “C’mon,” he says, pushing him forward.

Dex twists in his arms, fitting their mouths together as he locks his hands around Nursey’s back and tugs him closer. Nursey keeps walking until Dex feels a wall at his back, and he leans against it gratefully. The music is loud, practically thrumming through his body, and he would swear that Nursey’s hips are moving to the beat, just a little.

They eventually end up on the couch, making out enthusiastically with Nursey in Dex’s lap, his fingers twisted in Dex’s hair. Dex has both arms locked around Nursey’s waist, and he’s straining up to meet every one of Nursey’s greedy kisses.

If Dex were more sober he’d probably be embarrassed by this flagrant public display. But he’s on the drunk side of tipsy at the moment, and so it feels fucking awesome.

Until Bitty thwaps Dex on the back of the head with a—where did he get a _newspaper_ , Jesus.

“Ow,” he complains, pulling back from Nursey to tip his head back and glare at Bitty. His hands are on his hips, and he’s clearly trying to look angry, but there’s a little smile in the corner of his mouth that’s giving him away.

“I’m very happy for y’all, and I love you, but we don’t need soft-core porn in the living room. You have a room, please use it.”

Nursey sighs theatrically but climbs off of Dex’s lap and then reaches a hand down to help haul him to his feet. He shamelessly adjusts himself in his jeans and holds tighter to Dex’s hand, towing him toward the stairs. Nursey is handsy when he’s tipsy like this, and his enthusiastic groping of Dex’s midsection borders on tickling. Dex twists away with a laugh and practically shoves Nursey through their doorway.

Nursey crowds him against the door again and nips at his lower lip. He’s thankfully not drunk enough to have any trouble getting it up, and it seems like Nursey’s in the same boat. “You know…the music’s pretty loud.”

Dex’s eyes light up. They’re always so careful to be quiet, and the thought of _not_ having to do that is…intriguing, to say the least. “You’re the one who makes all the noise.”

Nursey makes a face and yanks Dex’s shirt over his head. “I am not.”

“You had to put a pillow over your face last week,” Dex reminds him.

“Challenge accepted, then.”

“I don’t remember issuing a challenge,” he says, but it’s hard to protest when Nursey’s mouth is on his neck.

“Yeah, you just said, ‘Derek, I bet that you can’t make me scream. If I lose, I’ll give you whatever you want.’”

“Funny, that’s not how I recall it.”

Nursey shrugs. “I don’t make the rules.”

Dex laughs and plants both hands on Nursey’s broad chest to push him back toward the bed. “What do you wanna do?”

“I wanna _fuck_ ,” he says, the words suspiciously close to a whine. “But I also wanna be sober when we do that for the first time.”

“You’re so romantic,” Dex says dryly, but the sentiment is there.

“I’m gonna blow you,” Nursey declares. He shoves his jeans and briefs down in one fell swoop, and Dex is too busy staring to respond. “That okay?”

“Uh, _yes_.”

Nursey guides Dex down onto the bed, blanketing him with his body to kiss him, and Dex fits his hand in between them to unfasten his jeans. It’s a little difficult, with the distractions from Nursey and the clumsiness from the alcohol, but he finally gets them unbuttoned and unzipped and makes a happy noise into Nursey’s mouth when he accomplishes it.

Nursey sucks at his lower lip one more time before pulling away and drops a line of kisses down his neck toward his collarbone. He noses at Dex’s chest and licks once over his nipple. “Can I?” he asks, his lips brushing Dex’s skin.

“Can you what?” Dex asks, even though he would probably let Nursey do literally whatever he wanted right now.

Nursey sets his teeth against Dex’s pec, and he gets it. They carefully avoided marks before, to keep the secret and avoid the mocking, but all that’s over now. “Yeah,” he says, probably too fast. “Yes.”

Nursey hums against him before taking his skin between his teeth, and Dex arches up with a hiss. He doesn’t have any kind of marking kink, as far as he’s aware, but his dick seems to be twitching as Nursey sucks.

Nursey finally lets go, and Dex gasps. The spot is throbbing a little, and he knows it’s going to be visible tomorrow—and he finds that hotter than he probably should. Nursey moves down his body, leaving a couple of smaller marks in his wake, and yanks Dex’s jeans down to mid-thigh. “Shit,” he mutters. “No underwear. Fuck, that’s hot.”

“I was hopeful,” he admits.

“Hoping for this?” Nursey asks, before ducking down and taking Dex’s dick into his mouth.

“No,” Dex gasps out, “I’m not this optimistic.”

Nursey pulls back to laugh, resting his forehead against Dex’s hip. “Fuck, I love you.”

Dex freezes, and Nursey does, too. “C’mere, c’mere,” he says after a second, tugging at Nursey’s shoulders until he’s within kissing range. “I love you, too.”

“We should probably say it again tomorrow when we’re sober,” Nursey mumbles into the kiss, and Dex laughs. He holds Nursey’s face with both hands, thumbs brushing his cheekbones, and kisses him again.

“And think of a good story for when people ask how it happened.”

“Speaking of…,” Nursey says, with a lecherous grin, and Dex grins back. He drops down again and sucks _hard_.

“I’m not gonna—fuck, I’m not gonna last,” Dex says, a little embarrassed, and brushes Nursey’s hair off his forehead. Nursey squeezes his thigh and speeds up even more, making Dex hiss. The quiet noise reminds him that they don’t _have_ to be quiet, and he lets the next groan come out a little louder. Nursey responds with a muffled noise of his own, and so Dex lets the words spill, lets himself say all the dumb shit that he usually tries to keep inside when they’re doing this.

He’s pretty sure it’s all embarrassing—he knows it’s mostly about Nursey’s goddamn pretty face—and he cuts himself off with a loud groan as he starts to come. Nursey swallows once and pulls off with a cough, finishing Dex off with his hand.

Nursey’s grinning, genuine and soft, and Dex yanks him up again. “Fuck that was amazing,” he murmurs. “I love you.”

Nursey’s mouth is hot and wet, and Dex kisses him, the last vestiges of his orgasm making him frenzied and clumsy, until his own lips are numb. He can’t quite feel his legs yet, but he manages to shift onto his side and pull Nursey down with him so that they’re facing each other. Dex fumbles with the lube, which they thankfully keep within easy reach, and coats his palm.

Nursey scoots as close as he can and thrusts his dick against Dex’s stomach, leaving a sticky streak of pre-come. He’s clearly on the edge, antsy and ready to come, so Dex takes a firm hold of him and strokes as slow as he can.

“Oh, man,” Nursey breathes, tipping forward to rest his forehead against Dex’s. He looks down between them and bites his lip. “Fuck you.”

Dex laughs and doesn’t speed up. Nursey doesn’t move, though, except to tangle their legs together, which tells Dex that he’s totally on board with what’s happening. Dex kisses him, trying to make it as gentle as he’s stroking him, and Nursey whines a little, bringing both hands up to Dex’s face.

It’s so hard for him _not_ to speed up as Nursey starts to fidget, thrusting his hips into Dex’s grip, but he manages. “Don’t make me tie you down,” he says. The words just slip out, thanks to the alcohol, and Dex regrets it for half a second until Nursey makes a loud, anguished noise.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants. “Yes, let’s totally do that.”

“Really?” he asks, his voice hoarse, and Nursey nods several times, leaning forward to kiss him frantically.

“ _Fuck_ yes. Not like—just with like a tie or something.”

Dex groans, his hand speeding up automatically just at the thought. “Jesus. Next time.”

“Promise?”

Dex laughs and slows down again, his hand stilling except for the sweep of his thumb across the head of Nursey’s dick. Nursey arches into him with a bitten-off scream, and Dex grins.

“You screamed, I win.”

“You didn’t _actually_ win anything,” Nursey points out, though he’s still panting. Dex gives him a slow once-over and raises his eyebrows.

“It feels like I’m winning right now.”

“Wow, what a smooth talker,” Nursey says, but he’s smiling. “Now can you please let me fucking come?”

Dex squeezes harder. “Maybe if you say please again.”

Nursey’s smile turns dirty as he leans closer. “ _Please_.” His voice is smooth as silk, his lips brushing Dex’s ear. He sucks at Dex’s earlobe before biting down softly, and Dex lets his eyes fall shut.

Nursey’s orgasm seems to last forever, pulsing over Dex’s knuckles, and he makes gorgeous, blissful noises throughout the whole thing. He ends up slumped heavily against Dex, huffing hot breaths over his collarbone, and Dex brushes back his hair with his clean hand.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he says, flushing a little with the brutal honesty, but Nursey just hums and tucks his face into Dex’s neck.

“So this roommate thing was a pretty good idea.”

Dex laughs and noses at his cheek until he obediently tilts his head up for a kiss. “So what about next year, then? Will you be my roommate?”

“Promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> ♥,
> 
> [leslieknopeismyshiningstar](http://leslieknopeismyshiningstar.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> [leslieknopeismyshiningstar](http://leslieknopeismyshiningstar.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr!


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